


No Bird Soars Too High

by hvanwoong



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 57,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvanwoong/pseuds/hvanwoong
Summary: Dongju has had a crush on Hwanwoong since the day he first saw him in the studio, but buries it down deep inside because he knows that Hwanwoong will never look at him the same way.Hwanwoong is confused about his sexuality and has always been too terrified to confide in anyone in case they look at him differently afterwards.Accidentally kissing when they go in for a hug on stage after their euphoric first win, in front of a studio of fans and several thousand live TV viewers, was not on the agenda for either of them.
Relationships: Son Dongju | Xion/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 46
Kudos: 95
Collections: WEUS Harvest Moon Fest





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE ^-^
> 
> This fic is written for prompt #80 of the Weus Harvest Moon Fest. 'Oneus take their first win. Xiwoong goes in for the hug and accidentally kiss on live camera. Now they all have to deal with the fallout.' I really wanted to develop this into a long complete fic so please enjoy, and if the prompter is reading then I hope that I did it justice.
> 
> The title of this work and the quote within is taken from the William Blake quote ‘no bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings’, from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.  
> Any characters outside of the members of Oneus and Onewe are named at random with no relation to other artists; if a name is similar to that of any other idol or celebrity then it is purely coincidental.  
> The work can be considered canonical in environment but I chose to base the narrative on a fictional comeback, since we cannot anticipate when the first win will arrive!  
> C/W: claustrophobia, brief references to homophobia, (non-explicit) sexual content, anxiety

The dorm is deadly silent during the early hours, and Dongju knows all of the floorboards to avoid in order to keep it so. Out of the bedroom, down the dark hallway; one hand trails along the wall to keep his balance. His feet act on auto-pilot, quick as a fox on the trustworthy boards, and only out in the kitchen does he begin to pad across the room with less care. Most sound in this room is not audible back down the corridor. He heads to the fridge and peers inside.

With comeback season in full swing, the fridge is well-stocked by the managers. There are cooked meals on the upper shelf, in plastic tupperware boxes, some way down some baskets of chilled fruit, and in the door lines and lines of flavoured drinks. Dongju takes out a can of white grape sparkling water and opens it with a soft hiss and crack of the metal ring.

When something touches the small of his back, he almost leaps out of his skin.

Water bubbles over and spills down his hands as he gasps and turns. ‘ _Hyung_!’

‘Shh!’ Hwanwoong presses a finger to Dongju’s lips and glances over his shoulder down the dark hall. ‘Don’t wake up the whole house.’ For a moment, like he’s unsure of whether to trust Dongju’s late night panic, his finger lingers and Dongju finds himself holding his breath.

Only when Hwanwoong slides his finger down, catching his lower lip for a second, and gives him a small smile, does Dongju dare to exhale. ‘I thought you were the ghost!’

‘That’s a lot of indignation for the one sneaking around first at night,’ grins Hwanwoong. He lifts the can from Dongju’s hand and takes a sip. ‘Nice.’

Dongju stares at him, aghast, but Hwanwoong is one of the hyungs that he doesn’t dare to try and argue with. Grumbling, he opens the fridge again for a new drink.

‘So what are you doing creeping around the dorm so late?’ whispers Hwanwoong. ‘We have to be up before dawn to travel to the show.’

There is always a penetrating look in Hwanwoong’s eyes that Dongju finds hard to ignore and even harder to lie to. It’s something in the way that his forehead furrows just enough to crease between his brows but not enough to create lines, and the way that his dark eyes look slightly up at Dongju, with sharp focus in his gaze. He shuffles his feet and opens his second drink. ‘Just nervous.’

‘Why?’ asks Hwanwoong in surprise. ‘We’ve done plenty of shows already.’

‘I tripped yesterday.’

‘No one even saw. Don’t worry about that.’

Dongju shrugs. Sometimes he can’t explain why some days he worries more than others. An involuntary jump catches hold of him for the second time as Hwanwoong touches him again, resting a gentle hand at his waist. Maybe it’s the late hour and the reminder of the ghost that Dongju swears is haunting the dorm, but goose-bumps rise on the skin under his loose white _Disney_ tee. He’s not wearing anything else other than his underwear but it’s normal for them to walk around the dorm like that. It’s not a big deal.

Suddenly, though, he’s self-conscious.

‘Try not to be nervous,’ says Hwanwoong in a soft voice. ‘Your dancing has improved so much these last few months. I’m proud of you.’

A surge of a thrill runs from Dongju’s throat to his abdomen at the praise from Hwanwoong. Hwanwoong does not often give out compliments, and when he does they are brusque and non-emotive. There’s a little tremor in Dongju’s voice when he answers. ‘Thanks, hyung.’

Hwanwoong drops his hand from his waist and drains the rest of his can before crumpling it and leaving it in the sink. That motion makes Dongju want to roll his eyes. _As if he couldn’t just carry it across the room to the garbage._ ‘Go back to bed soon,’ orders Hwanwoong, in his stern-hyung voice. ‘I’ll be waiting up for you. I mean it. I won’t go to sleep until I hear you snuggling up in that bed.’

Hwanwoong is babying him. Sometimes Dongju wishes that he wouldn’t, because he’s not a kid anymore and he wants Hwanwoong to look at him like he is _now_. He sighs and nods. ‘On my way.’

His eyes follow Hwanwoong back down the hall as he skips along the same non-creaking path that Dongju took earlier. For Hwanwoong, though, the movements are more like a ballet dancer, leaping from board to board with such grace. At the doorway to the bedroom, he glances over his shoulder and gives Dongju a bright wave before slipping inside.

Left alone, a strange sensation settles in the pit of Dongju’s stomach. He wishes that he hadn’t drunk half of this can already because he thinks he feels sick, but after a second that thought passes and he realises that the feeling is something else. There’s pride, there, from the compliment that Hwanwoong paid him, and a tingle on his skin from where his hand rested.

It feels like the flash of a crush that he fell headfirst into when he walked into the rehearsal room as a trainee on his first day at the company and saw Hwanwoong practicing, sheened in sweat and focussed intently on his own reflection. Those butterflies in his stomach, those hot palms and red ears. But he put all that to bed a long time ago, when he realised that it could never be allowed to happen, and that Hwanwoong would never see him as anything other than his dorky little brother anyway. The memory of that time hasn’t even crossed his mind for months.

Nerves.

He puts it down to nerves.

Still, he waits a few minutes before following Hwanwoong back to the bedroom, in the hopes that he will have fallen asleep after all. The thought of him watching his movements silently in the dark makes his hand shake on his drink.

~

The stage is dark as they prepare for the live recording. Hwanwoong fiddles with his mic and ear monitor, nervous because two days ago his monitor came loose and he had to perform the bridge and chorus on pure instinct. His costume is still stiff, fresh from the heat press, the coat thick black and gold wool with ornate embroidery around the collar, and it is difficult to move his arms. Behind his eyes there is a dull ache from his late night excursion.

Hwanwoong does not do well when he has slept badly. It puts him in a sour mood and he knows that he snaps at people. Without his eight hours he can be a grouch all day, and he finds himself on edge.

Already, there is a focus cam pointed his way, so he keeps his expression neutral. Sometimes the weight of the cameras on him starts to drag his shoulders down. Sometimes in the middle of the night he jerks awake in a panic, certain that he is being watched. Sometimes he wishes for a private moment to prepare himself for a stage instead of this.

The first beat of the music begins, and he conjures up his character like an adept sorcerer. This song has a very specific concept and he must portray every detail on his face to tell the story to everyone in the room. There is no textual accompaniment, no explanation, only movements and lyrics to convey this message. And if they want to win today, then the message needs to be strong.

Today is the first time that they have earned the first place in the pre-voting. It plays on Hwanwoong’s mind, he thinks more so than the others. Whenever he brings it up, they always say that they aren’t that worried about wins. Hwanwoong is. The competitive gene was passed down from his parents, who even when he was little were ferocious when it came to board-games, and it nags at a corner of his brain even when he’s resting or playing videogames or practicing in the studio.

He wants to win.

The fans have worked so hard on the voting that he wants to win for _them_.

They’ve done their part and now it’s up to him and the others to do theirs.

The glow of their light-sticks in the crowd stands out in his periphery and the fan-chants are so loud, louder than he ever remembers them being before. He hits every beat with fervour, and he can feel without a glance at the stage monitors that it looks good. Adrenaline rushes in his veins and his fingers buzz with energy. As he moves through the steps lactic acid burns in his muscles and his breathing comes quicker. It’s hard to keep his voice stable, but a part of him is aware that people will love that. They’ll cut it into videos on social media, proof that they are live singers.

Towards the end of the song there is a moment in the choreography in which Hwanwoong entwines his fingers with Dongju’s before pushing him away. Even under the glaring white and red strobes, their eyes meet, and Hwanwoong gives his hand a squeeze. Their palms are sweaty and slip together, but their eyes scream triumph because this is their best stage yet. At their second of interaction, a scream rises up from the audience, before Hwanwoong pushes him away.

As the final beat of the song fades out, Hwanwoong drops to his knees and throws his head back. He takes out his monitor to listen to the screams of the audience, and he knows that for the live recording it is not just their fans in the crowd. They have won over everyone.

He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, as if he could fill his lungs with this moment for a lifetime. He hasn’t felt like this since their debut stage, when everything first fell into place. Sound pummels his ear drums but he drinks it in, until a hand closes around his arm and his eyes fly back open. Youngjo is pulling him up, and when he’s standing he throws an arm around his shoulders to give him an excited shake.

Dongju and Geonhak are still in their finishing positions like they are afraid to move, but Seoho and Keonhee are already hugging. The steps to the side of the stage seem to cross several miles, because Hwanwoong would do anything to live in this moment forever. He drags his feet as he bows to the audience, drags and drags and drags until he reaches the steps off stage and someone is immediately pulling free his jacket.

He hadn’t even noticed that he was hot.

Now, aware of it, sweat drips on his forehead and he’s conscious of the way that his black undershirt is sticking to him. A member of staff passes him a fan and he switches it to the highest setting, holding it close to his neck. His chest rises and falls at rapid pace and the narrow passage backstage is claustrophobic.

‘Amazing,’ grins Seoho and he pulls Hwanwoong into a hug that he can’t wait to escape, only because now that reality has crashed down on him he’s in need of space and air. Still, he hugs him back, and Geonhak and Keonhee too when they come to clap hands down on his shoulders. Excited voices fill the air and he’s propelled to a dressing room where one of the managers gives him back his phone.

Just when he has a moment to collapse down into a styling chair and take some deep breaths, Dongju appears beside him.

His hair is coloured red and the dye has run a little at his temples. Bright excited lights fill his eyes, and his lips are halfway to a broad smile, like he’s trying to keep composed. ‘I was good, right, hyung?’ he says.

The question makes Hwanwoong turn his tired head to the side. He knows that Dongju depends on validation, and that he often needs someone to tell him that he’s done well, but Hwanwoong isn’t usually the member he goes to. More often than not it’s Geonhak or Youngjo. ‘You were beautiful,’ he says, referring to his dance and his poise and his confidence on the stage today. Maybe the endorphins from the exertion on stage are making him soft, replacing the tiredness that makes him crabby.

‘You – you really think that?’ Dongju knots his hands together and wrings his wrists in front of his body.

‘Of course I think that,’ he exhales. His throat is dry and his eyes scan around, distracted, for water. ‘Have I ever lied to you?’

Dongju’s smile turns dazzling. He shuffles his feet and then bows quickly to Hwanwoong before darting back out of the room. Perhaps Hwanwoong would think that behaviour was weird if he weren’t so interested in finding a drink for his parched throat. When he spots an unopened bottle of juice from two seats along, he wheels the chair over and snatches it up.

After the performance they gave today, he’s not going to feel guilty for that.

~

Never before has Dongju felt nerves like this as they stand on the stage waiting for the scores to be announced. In previous comebacks, they have been placed near the back, watching the action unfold but not really participating. Being in the top two is intimidating, especially when the artist on the other side of the hosts is a well-known digital monster. Dongju squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to try to do the math as the scores start coming up.

He jumps when he feels someone take his hand, and he knows it’s Hwanwoong, because Hwanwoong is stood on his right-hand side. Their fingers lace together like they did on the stage earlier, and Hwanwoong squeezes his hand tight.

There is no one in the world that Dongju would rather have by his side than Hwanwoong right now. Hwanwoong who has helped him since the day he arrived at RBW, who stayed late with him after practice when everyone else went home but Dongju was panicking about not mastering the choreography. Hwanwoong who speaks up for him in meetings when Dongju is too shy to pipe up with his opinions. Hwanwoong who Dongju can’t pretend he hasn’t been crushing on for over two years anymore because there’s no other excuse for the way his heart beats faster every time he’s in his presence.

He squeezes his hand back.

When the word _Oneus_ escapes the lips of the host, the world stops moving for a second. Dongju’s grip on Hwanwoong’s small hand is so tight that he’s sure he’s crushing his fingers. A murmur and a gasp and then a ripple of screams swings around the audience like a wave.

Then Hwanwoong’s hand pulls free and Dongju’s eyes fly open and Hwanwoong is pumping his fist in excitement.

Geonhak has crouched down and is running his hands through his hair.

Seoho and Keonhee and Youngjo have grouped in a hug.

Of all of them Dongju seems to have the slowest reaction. It can’t be real. It can’t be real but it’s real because his band-mates are reacting like it’s real. And he trusts them more than he trusts his own mind.

He’s wanted this for so long. He’s wanted this for himself but even more so for his hyungs. He thinks that this must be how it feels to win an Olympic medal or a statuette at the Academy Awards because Dongju can’t imagine anything less producing a euphoria like this. It rises up inside him from his abdomen to his chest, a hot energy like fire bubbling merrily under a cooking pot. It heats his heart until boiling point and his chest feels tight, but not in the panicked way – _no_ , it’s more like he’s going to cry. Even now, a sting pricks at the corners of his eyes.

As he watches, lost for words, Hwanwoong turns to him to pull him into a hug.

Dongju cannot be sure how it happens.

Perhaps he goes the wrong way, or perhaps Hwanwoong does.

Maybe deep inside, Dongju thinks that he’s going the _right way_.

Their lips touch the way that rows of flowers brush together in the breeze. Delicate petals, like velvet, that’s what Dongju thinks of Hwanwoong’s lips in that split second. They taste of cherry lip balm and the artificial hint of his peach coloured lip tint. Dongju has imagined kissing Hwanwoong so many times that the reality should be almost disappointing compared to his elaborate day-dreams. But it’s not. It’s better. It’s so much better than he imagined.

Then the kiss is over, as quickly as it began, and Hwanwoong is holding him at arm’s length.

His fingers are tight on Dongju’s arms, grip vicelike.

And the ecstasy crashes down into crushing depths like waves dragging rocks from the cliff edges.

 _Oh God_.

A blinking light in the back of Dongju’s brain knows that he should be thinking about the rest of the world; the team, who he may have just cost everything, and the other artists standing on the stage and the producers behind their monolithic cameras in front of them and the audience of fans and everyone who is watching at home because it is too late to take back what has been done. But Dongju doesn’t think about these things. All he can think about is Hwanwoong.

Hwanwoong who will hate him forever.

‘ _Hyung -_ ’ he tries to speak but words catch in his throat and he wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway.

The noise on the stage is still raucous. Perhaps the kiss felt longer in Dongju’s mind than it really was; perhaps the rest of the group did not even notice. Perhaps all they saw was the two embrace. Maybe the truth is destined only for the cameras. Hwanwoong is supposed to take the microphone from the host – that’s what they agreed – but right now he does not look capable of doing anything. There’s panic in his eyes. Real panic. He shakes his head as if in slow motion. His breath is coming in rapid gasps and his throat is bobbing as he swallows over and over.

Dongju is frozen to the spot. He wants to run away, but he couldn’t move if he tried and where would he go? There’s no place for him. No place other than the dorm and the studio and all of the places where Hwanwoong lives and Hwanwoong is never going to forgive him for this. He’ll hate him forever.

Youngjo pushes past both of them with haste to take the microphone.

He’s so composed. Dongju wishes that he was like him. As Youngjo talks in a quick, smooth voice about how grateful they are, and how they owe the win to their fans, Dongju feels an arm around his shoulders and he jerks in surprise. It’s Geonhak. Did he see? Is the touch a reassurance or just a moment of comradery after their win? The not-knowing is the worst part.

His heart pounds with vicious intent against his chest, as if it will punish him for what he’s done by breaking right out of the bone.

Their song starts to play. It sounds distant, like an old juke-box playing at the end of a long train tunnel, because Dongju’s ears are rushing. _The encore stage_. Already the other artists are shuffling right and the group are going to be expected to perform while the credits roll. Dongju thinks how he’s dreamed about this for so long, and instead of feeling thrilled he feels like the world has ended. His world has. This might even be the last time that he gets to perform on stage with his friends.

Hwanwoong is backing up, tripping over his own feet and bumping into one of the other singers behind them. Youngjo catches him by the arm though and pushes him towards his position on stage. With a sinking feeling in his stomach Dongju realises that Hwanwoong hardly looks able to stand, let alone dance.

‘Just sing the song,’ says Geonhak right against Dongju’s ear. His voice sounds louder than the music even though it cannot be so much so. He squeezes Dongju’s shoulders and directs him too.

It is the longest couple of verses of his life.

Not because his muscles scream like they sometimes do or stage fright grips hold of him.

It’s the dread and regret that seep like an ugly stain in his veins, which make the minutes feel like hours.

~

‘Don’t touch me,’ chokes Hwanwoong when Youngjo puts an arm over his shoulder to brush the bangs from his face. He shakes his head like that’ll free himself but Youngjo doesn’t stop. His fingers are steady and unwavering as he smooths the hair back from Hwanwoong’s forehead.

‘It’s okay,’ murmurs Youngjo. ‘You’re okay.’

Hwanwoong vomits again. There’s nothing left in his stomach except for acid and bile but he coughs that up too. His throat burns like he’s skinned it raw and his empty stomach heaves with every breath he takes. He didn’t eat before the stage, so the fist of fear squeezes the empty space until it folds and crumples. The clenched fist twists and twists and he whimpers in anguish.

‘Why don’t we go outside?’ Youngjo whispers. He’s still stroking Hwanwoong’s hair. The two of them are sat in a mess of limbs on the floor of the small bathroom stall buried deep in the labyrinth of the television studios. When Youngjo followed him in, he bolted the main door to keep everyone else away, so the only other sound is the drip of one tap outside the stall and the rumble of pipes somewhere overhead. ‘The manager-hyungs want to see you. They’ll take care of you. They’ll take us home.’

‘I’m g-going to be kicked out. I’m going to be kicked out of the group and the company and the industry and I don’t _have_ anything else! There’s nothing else I’m good at! It’s all over, Youngjo, I’m finished.’ The words stumble out so quickly that some of them blur together and Youngjo has to frown to keep up. ‘What if – what if Dongju gets kicked out because of me? Oh _God,_ hyung! What if he gets kicked out because of what I did?’

‘Hey,’ Youngjo turns him around and holds his face gently in his hands. ‘You’re catastrophising. Stop. Take a deep breath. Look at me. That isn’t going to happen. I won’t let it happen. Neither of you are going to be… fucking… _kicked_ out because you did something by accident on stage.’

Hwanwoong turns away and retches again.

‘It was… _was_ it an accident, Woong?’ Youngjo says in a softer voice. ‘Because you can talk to me.’

‘Of course it was an accident.’ His voice is heavy and there are tear-tracks on his cheeks. ‘He went one way and I – I went the same way – and it just – it was an accident. It’s all my fault. Dongju – Dongju must be feeling - ’ He starts to clamber to his feet so abruptly that he almost knocks over Youngjo. From the time spent crumpled on the stall floor his legs are numb and he stumbles clumsily until Youngjo manages to stand up and catches hold of him.

‘Woong, stop.’

‘Need to find Dongju.’

‘Stop.’ Youngjo holds him tight. ‘You can’t go out looking like this. Come on.’

He unlocks the stall door and steers Hwanwoong over to the sink basin. When Hwanwoong catches sight of his reflection in the mirror over the basin he winces. His stage make-up has run down his cheeks in dark tracks and the eyeliner under his eyes is smudged and watery. There’s a pale tinge to his skin from the nausea and his hair is knotted and messy.

Youngjo wets his sleeve under the water and lifts his hand to gently dab away the stains.

‘Don’t let them kick me out,’ whispers Hwanwoong. He can’t stop saying it. Oneus is his life. It’s everything that he’s ever worked for. Today was supposed to be their big moment. And he’s ruined it all.

‘No one’s going to try that, Woongie,’ says Youngjo. ‘It’s all of us or none of us. There’s no group without you or Dongju. Your mind is just working in hyperdrive right now. You need to calm down. I know it’s hard but you need to try and keep steady.’

‘I want to go home.’

Youngjo nods. He straightens Hwanwoong’s shirt and pats down his hair. ‘Let’s find Dongju and we’ll all go home together. Everything’s going to be okay.’

‘Promise?’

For a second, Youngjo falters, but then he nods. ‘Of course. I promise.’

When he unlocks the bathroom door and slips outside, they find the two main managers who accompanied them to the music show. One, Manager Jeong, has a face like thunder. The other, Manager Byun, looks more concerned. Hwanwoong gravitates towards the latter, and Youngjo is happy to steer him that way. He keeps a protective arm around his back.

‘Where’s Dongju?’ asks Hwanwoong in a ragged voice.

‘We need to get out of here. Too many eyes,’ interrupts Manager Jeong, and he reaches out a hand to grab Hwanwoong by the shirt sleeve, but Youngjo nudges Hwanwoong aside and places himself between the two of them subtly but firmly.

‘I need to find Dongju,’ Hwanwoong repeats.

‘Dongju’s gone,’ says Manager Byun.

‘Gone where?’ asks Youngjo, trying to keep his voice steady. Hwanwoong knows that it’s because he’s probably worried that _he_ will panic again if he starts to sound worried.

‘Bolted,’ mutters Manager Jeong with a suspicious look around the corridor like there will be spies or cameras hidden behind or below every surface. ‘Still in his costume.’

‘Don’t worry,’ murmurs Manager Byun. ‘Giwook already messaged Seoho. Dongju took a taxi-cab, went to their dorm.’

‘Dongmyeong will make sure he’s okay,’ says Youngjo and he rubs Hwanwoong’s back. ‘Let’s go back to the dorm.’

‘We need to go to the company building right away,’ snaps Manager Jeong. ‘We need to get ahead of this. _On top_ of this, we’re already too late to get ahead of it. All the time you spent crying in the bathroom has cost us valuable minutes. You’re trending top of every live search. The forums are exploding. Social media is out of hand and the journalists are salivating - ’

‘Hwanwoong doesn’t need to hear this right now,’ says Youngjo angrily. ‘We’ll go back to the dorm. Everyone’s been awake since before dawn, we’re all tired. There’s no point going to the company without Dongju and there’s nothing that can’t wait until morning. Hwanwoong needs to rest.’

The Manager’s words are going round and around in Hwanwoong’s head. The cacophony is deafening. The press. The fans. Every member of the public who logs into _Naver_. They’re all going to know. They’re all going to see it replayed over and over and over. There’ll be cuts of it on _Twitter_ , five second loops of the moment their lips touched. Maybe Manager Jeong is right and they need to move fast. But Hwanwoong is tired, his stomach and his throat are burning, and it’s easier to hide than to act.

He wishes that he had his phone.

The itch to read the comments is overwhelming.

‘Home,’ says Youngjo. Out of all of them, he is the only one who sounds calm. ‘Let’s just go home.’

~

Dongju curls up in his brother’s bed, the way that he used to whenever their parents would argue when they were kids, or whenever someone had said something cruel to him at school. The blankets are warm and soft, and he can almost imagine that it isn’t winter outside. With the shades drawn and the comforter up over his head, he can almost pretend that the outside world doesn’t exist at all. As soon as he arrived at the dorm, Dongmyeong took his phone away.

Whatever is going on beyond these walls, Dongju does not know.

‘Ju, wake up,’ murmurs Dongmyeong’s voice, as if Dongju could ever have fallen asleep.

He pushes the comforter away from his face with reluctance and meets his brother’s eyes in the dark room. Dongmyeong is sat on the side of the bed, and in his hands is a bowl of some sort of stew.

‘Harin cooked this for you,’ says Dongmyeong. ‘You should try to eat. I know that you never have meals before shows because you’re always worried it will make your face puffy.’ There is a fond smile on his lips.

Here in this room, Dongju can pretend that his world hasn’t just fallen apart. This room is safe. It’s the room that Dongmyeong shares with Giwook, and there are posters pinned up to the walls and the silhouette of two basses on delicate stands and in the far corner a battered keyboard. There are no secrets in this room, because Dongmyeong has known the truth for years. Dongju remembers the first time that he uttered the words aloud to the Dongmyeong, the first time he’d even uttered them aloud to himself: ‘ _I think I’m gay._ ’

Dongmyeong had pressed a kiss to Dongju’s forehead, which was unusual because the two of them had never been the most physically affectionate of brothers. Then he told him that he loved him and that he should talk to Giwook too.

When Dongju talked to Giwook, he realised that he wasn’t alone.

He sits up and takes the bowl as Dongmyeong fusses arranging the pillows behind him. ‘What are they saying about me?’ asks Dongju, his mind back on the world. ‘About us?’

Dongmyeong misunderstands, assuming that he is talking about the other members in the dorm. ‘They’re worried, but they’re ready to protect you. Everyone here understands. We’re all here for you. We love you.’

Dongju doesn’t mention that he was talking about the fans. Or the press. He just nods, because the thought that he’s in a safe place makes the anxiety in his chest settle just a little. The stew that Harin made is warm and comforting; succulent beef, soft oyster mushrooms and aromatic sauce drenching the wilted cabbage. Only when he eats the first few bites does his stomach realise how hungry it was, and it gives a loud rumble that demands satiation.

‘You know they’re all going to love you and protect you too, right?’ whispers Dongmyeong. ‘Youngjo and Seoho and Geonhak and Keonhee and – and Hwanwoong. I’m sure they’re all worried about you right now. I’m sure Hwanwoong is worried.’

‘He’ll hate me. I’ve ruined everything for him. I’ve – I’ve taken it all away.’

Dongmyeong squeezes his arm. ‘Nothing’s going to be taken away. Things might change, but we’re all going to get through this.’ When a silence falls, the only sound is Dongju eating, but Dongmyeong soon breaks it. ‘Do you have feelings for Hwanwoong, Ju?’

This is the question that he has been dreading, the question that he’s known has been coming since the second he arrived in the dorm, frantic and panicked and ice cold even from the short walk between the cab and the front door. He knew he looked a mess, still in his stage costume, but Onewe invited him in without hesitation, wrapping him up in warm blankets. They’d already seen the news. ‘It was an accident, Myeongie.’

‘That’s not what I’m asking. _Do_ you have feelings for him?’

‘I did a long time ago,’ he whispers. ‘When I first joined the company. But I was a kid. He was so experienced, everyone looked up to him. Everyone had a crush on him. I – I knew then that he would never look back at me the same way. He’s older, more mature. He doesn’t mess around with silly things like me. I’m just his dorky dongsaeng who likes _Disney_ too much and plays with crafts. It’s not like he’d like me back.’

Dongmyeong’s face turns to an angry frown. ‘Why are you talking down about yourself like that? Those are all the things that make you great. I’m sure Hwanwoong loves them too.’

‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Hwanwoong likes girls.’

‘Well just because he likes girls, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like boys too.’

‘Doesn’t matter either way,’ Dongju prods moodily at his stew. ‘He still doesn’t like _me_.’

There is a second in which Dongmyeong looks like he’s going to argue, but then a knock on the door rings around the room and Dongju flinches in panic.

‘It’s me!’ Hyungu’s voice. When he opens the door a crack, his head pokes in the gap, silver hair falling in his eyes. ‘One of your managers is here, Dongju. They keep knocking.’

‘I don’t want to see them,’ whispers Dongju. He knows that running away from his problems isn’t going to help, but this room is safe. And leaving a safe space for the horror show outside is not a decision he’s going to rush in to.

‘Okay,’ nods Hyungu. ‘I’ll tell Yonghoon-hyung to scare him off.’

When Hyungu leaves, Dongmyeong pounces again. ‘Ju, I think you should tell Hwanwoong the truth. You’re never going to be in a situation like this again, a moment where you can lay it all out on the table. No one in the group is going to judge you for who you are. And Hwanwoong… he isn’t going to… he’s not going to be mad at you. It might help him understand what happened today. Even if he doesn’t feel the same then he’ll understand. He’s not going to hate you.’

It’s easy, Dongju thinks, for his brother to say. It’s always easy for someone else to say.

Giving advice is the easiest thing in the world.

Acting on it is the hardest.

~

Hwanwoong sips the drink that Geonhak made for him. Only twenty-four hours ago, he met Dongju in this kitchen and joked with him in the dead of night. How much has changed since then. He swings on the bar stool and stirs the chocolate drink as his eyes scan the latest screen on his phone. Morbid fascination keeps his gaze glued to the constant updates.

His name is already the second most searched term on the live trends.

Dongju’s is fourth.

Oneus are trending on _Twitter_ in Korean and English.

The headlines range from polite to outraged depending on the cheapness of the tabloid. The comments range from disgust to euphoria depending on the account. There are nasty comments, the sort that sicken Hwanwoong to his stomach not because they are about him but because they betray a terrifying prejudice against others. There are excited comments that make him raise his eyebrows because he never expected some people to be so _thrilled_. They’ve given him and Dongju a collection of titles already: _XiWoong, HwanJu, Icons_ …

Both of their live-in managers are hovering around him, like they’re afraid he’ll post something _incriminating_ on the official _Twitter_ account if he’s left alone. He tries to ignore them. The drink is sweet, made with dark chocolate and melted marshmallows, and it’s too indulgent to be drinking when they’re in the middle of promotions but Hwanwoong doesn’t care anymore. At the end of the day, he does not even know if he’ll be promoting after today.

There is a flurry of activity when Dongju returns home, and Hwanwoong’s stomach flips over once. Twice. Three times. Geonhak and Keonhee are the first to the door.

Seeing Dongju again…

Everything is different now.

Hwanwoong thinks about kissing him. It all happened so fast that it is hard to remember, but the soft, slightly bitten texture of his lips will stay with him. The taste of gloss. The way his hands touched Hwanwoong’s chest.

How can he ever look at Dongju the same way again?

They bring Dongju to the kitchen, but the boy stops rooted to the spot in the doorway when he sees Hwanwoong. There’s a look of such anxiety in his eyes that Hwanwoong feels the responsibility to stand up and tell him that it’s going to be okay, but how can he convince him of that when he does not even believe it himself? But Dongju is younger, and that means it’s Hwanwoong’s job to take care of him.

He stands but his legs are like jelly. One hand swings out to hold himself up against the counter, and then he crosses the room and pulls Dongju into a tight hug without hesitation.

‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘We’re alright.’

Dongju rests his chin down onto his shoulder. Hwanwoong can feel the moment that his body starts to shake, and he holds him tighter. ‘I’m sorry,’ whispers Dongju, and Hwanwoong holds him back with a frown as he searches over his features. Dongju’s eyes are glassy and tired. They’ve been awake for so many hours that he can’t keep track anymore.

‘No, no,’ murmurs Hwanwoong. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. _I’m_ sorry. This is all my fault. I – I don’t know what came over me. I’m the hyung, I should’ve been more responsible. None of this is your fault.’

The thought that Dongju is blaming _himself_ is crushing. Dongju doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know that Hwanwoong lies awake at night trying to figure out why sometimes he’s thought about kissing another boy.

It all started a few months ago. During the promotions for their previous comeback, he found himself staring at Dongju when he was filming one his parts. His brown hair was feathery in the breeze of the open landscape; a soft blue silk band nestled across his throat; he kept smiling and laughing with Keonhee and they started doing impressions together. Hwanwoong thought he was beautiful. Not cute or handsome, but beautiful, like the sun’s rays were strobes marking centre stage only for him.

At that time, he told himself that it was understandable. Dongju was maturing into a handsome man, everyone said so. Hwanwoong was no different. There was nothing unusual about appreciating someone’s beauty.

Then, a month later, he woke up one night, breathing heavily after a dream that found him clinched in an embrace with one of their dancers. One of their male dancers. He’d raced to the bathroom to avoid embarrassment, head playing the dream out over and over in a constant replay. He’d never looked at the guy like that before, he was just a friend, a colleague. It didn’t mean anything, or it shouldn’t have.

Hwanwoong was confused.

None of it made sense.

If he had these feelings for guys then surely it would’ve started much earlier. When he was a teenager, when all of the other kids at school were starting to get boyfriends and girlfriends. That was how it always was in the movies. Hwanwoong couldn’t be all the way in his twenties and not _know_.

Then, a few weeks ago, during a rare private moment, he found himself scrolling through a _very_ uncensored website, the sort that made him glance constantly at the door even though he knew he was alone in the dorm, and he tried a different video to usual. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He liked it so much that he threw away his phone afterwards and ran to the shower just to let the cold water numb his head for half an hour because everything inside was riotous.

He couldn’t tell anyone.

He couldn’t tell his teammates, because what would they think if they knew he’d even thought about Dongju or their dancer friend that way? What if they thought it was wrong, to think about _any_ other guys that way? What if it got in the way of their work together, if they began to look at him differently? If they didn’t want to be around him anymore? If they –

It was all stupid. He knew it. He knew the thoughts were stupid. He knew that his members would never treat anyone differently because of who they were. He knew that it was unfair to even _contemplate_ it.

But between the confusion and the anxiety, there was a corner of his brain that could not be reasoned with.

Besides, it could never materialise into anything other than a dream anyway. If anyone found out about it, it would spell the end of his career, and he’d worked too hard to let it all go.

So he’s kept quiet.

All this time.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

Now, everyone in the world has found out.

And he’s dragging down Dongju with him.

‘It’s my fault, Dongju. All mine,’ he says. From up behind him walks Keonhee, and he wraps his arms around Hwanwoong’s chest. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s comforting just to know that he’s there.

‘Well you’d better decide quickly between the two of you,’ snaps Manager Jeong. ‘Because you’ll be meeting with the CEO at 8am sharp and if I were you then I’d have an explanation ready.’

‘That’s not _fair_!’ says Seoho, who has also entered the kitchen wearing his checked flannel pyjamas. ‘None of us have slept. We need to _rest_.’

‘Well the rest of you don’t have to worry. Only Hwanwoong and Dongju need to attend.’

Fear grabs Hwanwoong by the throat and squeezes tight.

‘It’s alright,’ says Keonhee, and rubs his hands up and down Hwanwoong’s arms. ‘We’re not going to let you go alone. This concerns all of us. We’re a _team_.’

While it’s true, Hwanwoong can’t help but feel alone.

It’s he and Dongju who have their necks on the chopping block.

~

They only moved into this dorm recently. The living room is small but comfortable, because by comparison they did not have much extra living space in their old dorm. Blue and green cushions give the couches a bright feel and the walls are painted white to flood the room with light during the day. Winter doesn’t overwhelm this dorm like the old one, but Dongju still sits on the floor by the heater and wraps his arms around his legs. The burn on his back reminds him that everything is real, and that he hasn’t just slipped into one of his nightmares. He wishes that he had.

His eyes flicker up when Hwanwoong enters the room. He’s carrying Dongju’s blue blanket, and he holds it out for him without words. The soft jersey runs through Dongju’s fingers, and he lifts it around his shoulders.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ whispers Dongju.

Hwanwoong shakes his head and sits down beside him. ‘I meant what I said, Ju. What happened wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should’ve known better. You deserved better than this.’

Neither of them seem content to admit that it could just have been an accident.

Dongju can’t watch it, he cannot watch Hwanwoong do this to himself. There is an instinct deep inside him to be brave, even though he’s never thought of himself that way. When they were at school, Dongmyeong was always the brave one who stood up to bullies or even stood up to their teachers. Dongmyeong was the bolder, and therefore Dongju had never had to exercise that part of himself, content to let his brother do the talking. But Dongmyeong isn’t here, now, and Dongju wants to have courage.

The words form on his lips before his thoughts. ‘Oh hyung… you don’t have to say all this. Can I tell you something?’

‘Of course,’ whispers Hwanwoong. ‘You can always tell me anything.’

‘The truth is, hyung, that I’m gay.’ He doesn’t stutter. It isn’t like coming out, to Dongmyeong or talking to Giwook for the first time. The words roll with ease, so easy that he doesn’t even think about them. Because for just this one moment, his own fears feel less important than bringing some kind of understanding to Hwanwoong, whose life has been turned upside down – an understanding of what happened on that stage. ‘And what we did wasn’t your fault. I don’t even think it was mine. It was just something that happened.’

There’s only one thing that he won’t tell him, no matter how much Dongmyeong tried to convince him. He cannot betray the truth to Hwanwoong, the truth about his feelings. Not when their position is already so precarious. He will not lay that burden upon him too.

There’s a glimmer of surprise in Hwanwoong’s eyes, and something else and something else and Dongju realises that he’s never been able to read the thoughts that trail across Hwanwoong’s dark irises, deep black pupils. Whatever is there, though, it doesn’t look bad. Hwanwoong exhales a shaky breath, but he takes Dongju’s hand and holds it tight in his. ‘I never knew,’ he whispers.

‘Well I never said so.’ A soft laugh escapes Dongju’s lips and it’s a sound too delicate for the situation they are now in. Relief is a salve on his hot skin, burned from the heater and from adrenaline. ‘Is it okay? You’re not mad at me?’

‘Why would I be mad at you?’ Hwanwoong frowns, and then he takes Dongju’s cheeks between his hands and gives his head a small, playful shake. ‘Silly boy. What do you take me for? I’m proud of you, always proud of you.’

His cheeks flush scarlet and he pulls away before Hwanwoong feels the heat.

‘Do any of the others know?’ asks Hwanwoong.

‘About me? No. I told Dongmyeong, and I’ve talked to Giwook about it too. But it’s never been… the right moment.’

‘Well I’m glad you told me,’ he whispers. ‘And you know that when you tell the others, they’re all going to be glad, too? You’re like our baby, Dongju.’ A soft smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and Dongju feels his heart break because despite the comfort, the support, he knows that’s all he’ll ever be to Hwanwoong. Hwanwoong who likes girls and thinks that Dongju’s like his little brother.

With those thoughts rattling around his mind, Dongju can’t think of a response. They fall into quiet. Only one lamp is switched on in the room and it bathes them in soft pinkish glow. When Dongju looks up, the light is glancing off Hwanwoong’s angular jaw and his cheekbone and his pretty dark eyes and Dongju wonders how he ever managed to convince himself that he wasn’t in love with him anymore.

‘Have you watched the video?’ asks Hwanwoong.

Dongju shakes his head.

‘I have.’

‘Well now you have to show me,’ Dongju sighs. He takes Hwanwoong’s phone and follows the link to the recording of the live broadcast. His eyes pop at the views. Since the evening it has already been viewed nearly two million times; he doesn’t even remember their performances being seen by so many people. When he skips through the video to the fateful moment, his heart starts to pound faster. Even though he knows what is going to happen, he still hopes that somehow they will have missed each other. Like watching a movie you’ve seen ten times before and still praying that things will go differently this time.

When the kiss happens, it’s even worse than he thought. The live production had zoomed in on them at that very moment, anticipating their hug, and only the two of them are in frame. Dongju doesn’t even remember closing his hands on the front of Hwanwoong’s jacket like that. It doesn’t even _resemble_ a hug. And what felt like a flash of an experience is much longer on camera.

Seconds, even.

The camera cuts away, but far too late.

Dongju rewinds the video to watch it again, then sighs. ‘Well, they couldn’t have captured it any more perfectly.’

‘There’s no explaining this away,’ says Hwanwoong, and his voice sounds miserable again. ‘Do you think we’ll be kicked out of the company?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

Hwanwoong rubs his eyes. ‘Everyone worked so hard, we got so far, we even got our first win. And now it might all be over, just like that, we’ll be forgotten.’

Listening to Hwanwoong voice these fears aloud is not what Dongju needs to hear at this moment, but then again it’s nothing that he hasn’t already thought for himself. He puts his arms around Hwanwoong’s shoulders and hugs him tight. Though their position on the floor is awkward, the message is still the same. _We’re in this together_. ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘if we go to bed now then we can still get a little sleep before the meeting in the morning.’

For the first time in his life, Dongju feels brave.

~

They arrive at the company building in a testudo formation. Hwanwoong and Dongju are protected at the centre with the other members framed around them, while their managers walk ahead at pace. The journey between the car and the doors seems to span a mile. Cameras line the streets – fansites, fans, journalists, even bystanders who’ve stopped to see what all the fuss is. It was the same outside the dorm. The flashes crash and sputter like old movies when the bulbs would burst.

Hwanwoong sure feels like he’s walking on broken glass.

Almost none of his face is visible, because a black mask covers the lower half and a dark beanie is pulled down over his hair. Even though the winter day is cold and the sun is buried behind wispy grey clouds, he wears sunglasses. If the cameras want to get photos of the one slither of skin showing between his glasses and his beanie, half of him covered by Keonhee to his left, then good luck to them.

His claustrophobia begins to take hold of him again, though, with so little freedom to breathe. Before he can take command of his mind, his breath starts to come in quicker gasps and his hands begin to shake and he has to close his eyes just to centre himself. Seoho, who walks behind, places a reassuring hand on his back when they turn to the entrance.

Even though the lobby is familiar, it feels to Hwanwoong like entering a viper’s nest. They rarely travel all the way up to the top floor to see the CEO, and in the elevator Hwanwoong thinks this must be how it would feel to be sent to the principal’s office at school. He wouldn’t know, because he was a model student. He’s always been a model student, at school and at both of his entertainment companies and all through his career to this very moment.

_How have I ended up here?_

It is obvious that the others keep trying to reassure him and Dongju with little touches. A squeeze of the arm, a hand on the lower back, a shoulder bump to try to make them smile.

They arrive four minutes before their meeting. Politely but not aggressively early, and never, _ever_ late. The managers have agreed that the other members will permitted to join the meeting, but they have advised them not to speak.

Knots wind like twisted yarn in Hwanwoong’s stomach. Before they left the dorm, he kept rushing to the bathroom. There is a burning in his chest too, one that rises up his throat when he talks and makes his voice scraggly. He wants someone to take his hand and hold it, but he knows that wouldn’t be the best thing to do right now. Once he takes off his coat and mask and glasses and beanie, he looks like he’s attending an interview for a job at a prestigious city firm, in a smart jacket and white shirt.

It felt fitting for a meeting with the CEO.

Though it might be too late to try to give a good impression.

When they’re sent into the office, his fear jumps up another notch. This is not the first time that he’s been in the office but nor is it familiar enough to be comfortable. The room is small even though it belongs to the CEO, and the walls are lined with shelves of books and vinyl records and all of the latest physical releases from the groups under the label. There are only two chairs laid out across the black desk, so Hwanwoong and Dongju exchange a glance and nod gingerly. Clearly the seats are for them.

The CEO is half hidden behind a large computer tower, but when the other members shuffle in behind the two of them, and the managers join the group, he swivels to one side and looks sternly over half-moon glasses.

He has always been a fair CEO, quite young and willing to allow the group to make their own way in many matters. That doesn’t instil Hwanwoong with confidence, though, because many people seem quite agreeable until their prejudices are revealed. Wary, he folds his hands on his lap and bows to a right angle before taking a seat.

‘Well you two sure have made a name for yourselves,’ sighs the CEO.

Hwanwoong fights the urge to glance across at Dongju for his reaction. Until asked to speak, he will remain resolutely silent and keep his gaze cast down out of respect.

‘Still trending at number one.’

With the arrival of the morning, the news had only begun to explode even more. It strikes Hwanwoong as so strange, the way that a single moment that takes place over mere seconds can define someone’s whole life or career, can spark the interest of thousands or even millions of people. It doesn’t seem fair.

‘Does one of you want to explain exactly what happened here?’

‘The two of them - ’ starts Manager Jeong, but the CEO holds up his hand with a look of mild irritation.

‘From the boys, please.’

This feels like Hwanwoong’s responsibility as the older. Dongju is shy, far more shy than him, and does not deserve the burden of having to talk. Especially not after what he told him last night. The stakes are high for both of them but Hwanwoong must protect Dongju now.

Clearing his throat, he starts to speak. His throat is dry and his mouth even drier and he wishes that he’d brought some water with him. ‘After the performance, all of us were very caught up in adrenaline. When the host read our name as the first win, all that energy rose back up again. It was like… ecstasy, euphoria. I think that we all wanted to share in it together. And Dongju and I were side by side, and - ’ At last he falters and glances right at Dongju, who is picking at his nails with his eyes turned down on his lap. ‘We were only going to hug.’

‘And?’ His tone is not rude, merely pressing for an answer.

‘I guess we both went the same way. It just happened.’ The remarkable grasp that he had on words for the first part of his story fades away. Now, he is aware of the ache in his eyes and the throbbing headache at the back of his skull from the lack of sleep. His limbs feel heavy and whenever he moves his muscles seize up because they did not cool down after the performance yesterday.

The CEO sighs again and pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘Let us hope that the PR team can spin _‘it just happened_ ’ into a meaningful statement.’

‘Are we going to be kicked out?’ asks Hwanwoong in a moment of courage.

‘No.’

In the periphery of his vision, Hwanwoong sees Dongju’s head snap up.

‘It wouldn’t look good for the company, and it would end the career of the group. We’ve invested a lot in you boys.’

 _Guilt_ , that’s just another thing to weigh on Hwanwoong’s gut. _As if the confusion wasn’t enough._ He could not sleep all night, filled with questions. Should he have told Dongju about the way he’s been feeling? The way he’s been feeling about boys? Would it have comforted Dongju to know that maybe he wasn’t alone and that they were in this together even more than they thought? He feels ashamed, ashamed that he could not get his head together quick enough to support him.

‘But we need to move with intelligence from this moment forwards. The statement will be put together by the PR team, to be reviewed by me. What I need to clarify with you today is the position that we find ourselves in now. We must safeguard against further scandal.’

Hwanwoong nods. This is better than anything he expected from this meeting. It is difficult not to show his relief on his face. ‘Of course, sir.’

‘So, are the two of you in a relationship?’

Both Hwanwoong and Dongju lift their hands instantly in protest and Hwanwoong shakes his head particularly rapidly. He’s so aware of the other members behind him. He’s even more aware of their managers, and he doesn’t want Manager Jeong knowing Dongju’s personal business, let alone his own. ‘No, no!’

Perhaps sensing his disquiet, the CEO raises his eyebrows. ‘Do you want the others to leave the room so that we can discuss this in private?’

‘We’re not dating,’ says Dongju. ‘I promise. We promise.’

There’s a palpable air of relief in the room. ‘So there’s no risk of something coming back to bite us? Because if we categorically deny this in the statement and then in a few months new issues arrive then there will be a big problem.’ The CEO looks at them both with very stern eyes.

‘Well…’ Dongju starts.

Hwanwoong’s eyes shoot over to him in a panic.

‘I – I am gay,’ says Dongju. ‘And maybe one day I’d like to date another man. I can’t promise that I can keep my life secret forever. So if that is classed as new issues then… then maybe yes.’

It’s so bold, so brave, that it takes Hwanwoong’s breath away. He cannot take his eyes off him. Dongju’s brow is furrowed just a little in focus and his mouth is set in a firm, confident line. This is not the Dongju that Hwanwoong thought he knew, the shy maknae, always just a bit awkward. No, before him now might be the bravest person that he has ever seen and he’s overwhelmed by pride and envy.

_Dongju. Brilliant Dongju. Brilliant, beautiful Dongju._

The atmosphere in the room changes. Geonhak’s hands rest gently on Dongju’s shoulders from behind and he gives them a reassuring squeeze. Youngjo’s head rolls back in sheer shock as he stares up at the ceiling. Hwanwoong knows that they will be asking _why_. _Why didn’t he confide in us before_? But he understands Dongju; he understands the need to keep this most private thing close to his chest like a baby bird, until it is reared to enough strength to let it soar in a second.

Hwanwoong’s baby bird is still delicate and does not have all of its feathers yet.

The managers shake their heads. The CEO buries his head in his hands in a momentary loss of composure.

When his lungs reach bursting point, Hwanwoong has to remind himself how to breathe. He wants to take Dongju’s hand and hold it tight, but anxiety still lives in his own veins. What if it makes people ask questions?

Should he tell the truth too?

Is this the moment?

Would the two of them find strength in numbers?

Hwanwoong cannot bring himself to do it. The guilt is there again. And shame. Shame that Dongju who is younger and shyer can be so brave. And he can’t.

‘And you, Hwanwoong?’ their CEO asks.

 _Deer in the headlights._ His mouth opens and closes. Words don’t work.

‘It’s just about me, sir,’ interrupts Dongju. ‘This isn’t Hwanwoong’s fault.’

‘I don’t think anyone will believe any statement that we make anyway,’ Hwanwoong whispers, eager to get the conversation away from any mention of his own sexuality. ‘They all saw what they saw.’

‘Statements aren’t about making people _believe_ them,’ says Manager Jeong in a condescending tone, like this ought to be obvious to any adult. ‘They make their judgment the second it happens. Statements are about being seen to act, and apologise where necessary.’

‘Well we can’t release a statement denying the sexuality of any of the members,’ pipes up Youngjo, with anger in his voice, and they all turn to look at him in surprise. The audacity to speak up without being spoken to in front of their managers and the CEO of the company… Hwanwoong feels like more of a coward than ever. ‘There’s nothing wrong with whoever _anyone_ in the group is attracted to, and if we make a statement denying it then it implies that it’s a bad thing to wash our hands of. And I’m not signing off on _anything_ that makes Hwanwoong and Dongju feel like they have to apologise.’

No one seems to know what to say to that. Hwanwoong feels a surge of gratitude for his friend.

‘So you’re suggesting that we release no statement at all?’ The CEO sits back and touches his fingertips together, and Hwanwoong could be mistaking it but he could swear that there is a hint of interest in his eyes. He almost looks entertained, _impressed_ by Youngjo’s bravery.

‘I just think that maybe the company should be the on the right side of change!’ Youngjo continues. ‘Some people might not like it, some people might not like the group anymore, but those people will already have decided that the moment they saw the kiss. A statement won’t change anything, and it might alienate a lot more of our fans. In a few years things will have moved forwards and don’t we want to be the company who moved in that right direction instead of backwards?’

The headache behind Hwanwoong’s eyes is worsening with the rate at which his eyes flit back and forth between each person in the room. His hands are shaking where they’re curled in his lap. _Again_ he wishes that someone would hold them.

‘I agree with Youngjo.’ Manager Byun claps a hand on Youngjo’s shoulder as he says it, and the gratitude in Hwanwoong’s chest grows even greater.

No one knew anything before they entered this room and yet they have adapted like sails in the wind. They have accepted Dongju in less than a second. That means they will accept him too.

_That means they will accept me too._

‘Say nothing?’ the CEO muses, tapping his fingertips together. Hwanwoong can tell that he’s engaged by the idea. ‘It is bold. Very bold.’

‘I think it’s good to be bold. Would we ever play it safe with our music? No.’ Now that he has begun, Youngjo seems unable to stop. ‘Someone always has to be the first. Or the second. Or the third. But over time people will realise that we were on the right side all along.’

Hwanwoong holds his breath, and his own hands knotted together, bated in anticipation.

‘I’ve always allowed you as much freedom as I can,’ says the CEO. He sits up straight. ‘You have always governed yourselves more than any other group that I have observed. Be it working without a leader, and choosing your own roles in your productions. I have faith in you. So I will support you in the choice you make.’

The breath that Hwanwoong has kept halfway between his chest and his mouth breaks free in a rushed exhale.

‘The six of you ought to go home and get some sleep. The next music show films tomorrow and if we are going to move on without explanation then we must continue as if nothing has happened. I will discuss our next steps with your managers.’

Relief.

Relief is all over Hwanwoong’s skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end and his spine unfold into a relaxed shape for the first time in hours.

‘Go home.’

Seoho helps Hwanwoong up with a comforting hand on his arm, as the other members close in around Dongju with murmurs of support. Even though he’s not sure he deserves it for keeping all of his own secrets in the office, Hwanwoong is grateful to have someone by his side too.

~

Dongju sleeps for at least five hours during the day, before the scent of cooking from the kitchen wakes him up. It is likely a good thing, because were he to stay in his dreams any longer he would not be able to fall asleep when night came. The memories take a moment to flood back, and then he stares up at the ceiling. He needs to call his mom, because seeing it broadcast across the national media is not how he expected her to find out the truth, and he knows that he has missed calls on his phone. For now, though, he doesn’t feel ready to talk, and he knows that Dongmyeong will have called her anyway.

He climbs down from the top bunk, trying not to make the bed creak because Hwanwoong is still asleep on the lower bunk. Dongju pauses by the bed and watches as he wriggles a little under the blankets and squashes his face down into the pillow. His blond hair is freshly-washed and wavy over his forehead, and Dongju longs to reach out and brush it away in case it tickles his face and wakes him, but he keeps his hands closed firm by his sides. Hwanwoong looks small when he sleeps, because he curls up like a tiger cub, leaving most of the end of the bed empty.

As he tiptoes out to the kitchen, Dongju finds Geonhak cooking.

‘You’re awake?’ Geonhak smiles.

‘Sure looks like it,’ yawns Dongju and he stands tall to poke his head over Geonhak’s shoulder at the simmering pan. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘Tangsuyuk,’ he answers, and he takes the boiling sauce off the heat. Then, with that teacher-look about him, he turns to Dongju and takes his shoulder. ‘What you did in that office today was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen. I’m proud of you.’

Dongju looks down, a lump in his throat. Even though he knew that his friends would not care, there was still a part of him that feared how they might react. He’d thought that talking about the food would be a few moments more to avoid talking about everything else, but now under Geonhak’s soft but firm gaze he finds the nervous knots in his stomach starting to unfold. ‘You don’t – you don’t mind?’

Geonhak cups his cheek gently like a brother. ‘No one minds, Dongju. We love you. We’re all here to support you.’

They both look up as Keonhee wanders into the room and gives a comic pause. ‘Sorry, did I interrupt?’

‘I was just saying how much we all support Dongju. How we’re all going to be here for him,’ says Geonhak, in a stern voice that demands reciprocation.

‘Oh of course,’ says Keonhee and he pulls Dongju’s back against his chest in a hug. Dongju protests but there is no escaping. ‘You can’t get away from us that easy, Ju, we’re here for life!’

‘Can we talk about something else?’ groans Dongju. He’s never liked having people all over him, and talking about himself is his least favourite subject. Unless the subject is games or something else that he loves, he prefers to listen to everyone else talk. Watching his hyungs is his favourite past-time, especially when they grow animated or even when they argue. It reminds him that this is his second family, the one he never expected to have.

Keonhee makes an effort, which is admirable, but the subject does not change quite enough for him to be comfortable. ‘Is Hwanwoong okay, Dongju? Did you talk to him?’

‘He’s sleeping. We should let him sleep.’

‘Did you talk to him about everything? Did he already know the truth?’

‘Yes,’ he sighs. ‘I told him last night. I thought that he had a right to know.’

‘Is he… like you too? Because he talks about girls and I know you said it was an accident but you can tell us if it wasn’t, the managers aren’t here now, and I’m just confused and I want to help support you and him and - ’

Keonhee’s words ring strangely in Dongju’s ears. Hwanwoong can’t be… Dongju’s never seriously entertained the thought that he _could_ be… no. He’s always brushed it away as a ridiculous notion brought on by his crush. ‘I… I don’t think he’s gay, Keonhee.’

‘What if he likes girls _and_ boys?’ he says, just like Dongmyeong did. ‘It’s just that _I’ve_ never accidentally kissed a guy and I’m not saying it means anything but what if it does mean something?’

‘I don’t know, hyung. It’s none of our business,’ he whispers. His mind is moving a mile a minute but he’s steady enough to know that they shouldn’t be talking about this. He knows because he absolutely would not have wanted anyone talking like this about _him_ before he came out. ‘We shouldn’t talk about it behind his back.’

Luckily, Dongju is saved from further prodding by Seoho who comes into the kitchen with a game controller and thrusts it into his hands. ‘Come on, I need my healer!’

Though the kind words and the touches of support are nice, nothing can compare to throwing himself onto the couch and doing something normal. It’s difficult to put into words, but feeling like nothing has changed, like his declaration in that office has made no difference to anything at all, is the most comforting thought of all. He can sink into the familiar graphics of the video game like a meditative state, and letting himself give in to auto-pilot for a while settles his heart-rate back to normal for the first time since that kiss.

Geonhak brings out dinner, which also summons Youngjo from his bedroom.

‘Should we wake Hwanwoong?’ asks Keonhee.

‘No,’ says Youngjo, before Dongju has to pipe up again. ‘His body will wake him when it has had enough rest. We’ll just box up some dinner for him and leave it on the side.’

Even as they eat, Hwanwoong’s absence is felt. It’s not like they never eat without him, because Hwanwoong often stays behind late at the studio to practice or make new choreographies, but as the five of them eat together knowing that he is just down the hall, there is an air of discomfort. His spot on the second couch is empty. Keonhee shuffles along to it halfway through the meal, as if to try to make the space less conspicuous, but if anything it only draws more attention.

When Dongju is scraping the bottom of his bowl with his ceramic spoon, Youngjo speaks, and he feels his tummy flip again.

‘I think we need to say, here and now, that if anyone has a problem with what Dongju told us today, then they can’t be around the group anymore.’ It is a necessary announcement, but it makes Dongju cringe inside.

‘None of us has a problem with Dongju,’ says Seoho softly and he squeezes Dongju’s leg in reassurance.

‘I’m not talking about the group. I’m sure that we can all trust each other on that. But I’m talking about other people. I, for one, am not comfortable with the way that Manager Jeong has reacted to this whole situation, and if Dongju or Hwanwoong feel threatened then I need to talk to Manager Byun or even go over his head and talk to the CEO. I don’t want anyone around who makes our members feel unsafe.’

‘Did he make you feel that way?’ murmurs Geonhak and he catches Dongju’s eyes with an expression that is hard to look away from.

‘I don’t know,’ he whispers. ‘He was probably just shocked. And mad. He was right to be mad at what happened. We could’ve cost the group everything.’

‘Hey, none of that!’ says Seoho. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. No one should be mad at you. Our CEO wasn’t mad.’

‘I think he was,’ says Dongju in an edgy voice. ‘He just didn’t want to show it.’

‘Well the important thing is that you need to tell us if anyone _does_ make you uncomfortable, Dongju,’ continues Youngjo, cutting through the conjecture. ‘Whether it’s a member of the management team, or a stylist, or someone who works on a TV program, or anyone else. If anyone says anything to you, or makes you feel like you aren’t safe, then you need to let one of us know. We can deal with it for you. It’s not your responsibility.’

‘Promise you’ll tell us, Dongju,’ says Geonhak.

‘Yes, yes I’ll tell you,’ he whispers. There’s nothing left in his bowl to distract himself.

His thoughts drift to the music show tomorrow. Will people stare at them? Surely. Will the fans still attend or will they be angry? Dongju doesn’t know. He’s heard stories about people abandoning groups for the smallest things, and he doesn’t think that this is a small thing. The feeling of fear comes back.

He knows that he needs to get through these first few days. That’s what Dongmyeong told him. His brother warned him that the first couple of days, even the first week, would be the worst, but that if he could just survive that then things would start to drift back to normal. He told him that the industry moves so fast that someone else will have taken over the headlines in a couple of weeks, and that once people get used to the idea, they’ll start to move on.

‘Will you tell Hwanwoong that, too?’ says Youngjo. ‘That if anyone makes him feel uncomfortable then he needs to let us know?’

Dongju nods and gulps. ‘Sure. I think I’m going to go back to bed, now.’

Anything to get away from the scrutiny. He knows that his members mean well but he’d rather not talk about it at all. None of them try to stop him as he shuffles back to the room that he shares with Hwanwoong and Keonhee. When he pushes open the door as quietly as he can, he sees Hwanwoong drop his phone onto the bed and pretend to be asleep. The screen glows, though, open on his social media.

‘I don’t think you should read that stuff, hyung,’ he says softly. ‘People can be very nasty when they’re behind a screen. It makes them feel like they’re invincible, like they’ll never be held accountable for the things they say.’

Hwanwoong does not reply straight away, like he’s trying to decide whether or not he can get away with feigning sleep. ‘I wasn’t reading anything.’

‘Okay,’ sighs Dongju. ‘There’s some dinner in the kitchen for you, if you want it.’

‘I’ll go later, once everybody goes to bed.’

What Keonhee said won’t stop playing in his mind. ‘Hyung, you can talk to me about anything, you know that right?’

Hwanwoong turns away to face the wall and pulls up his blankets over his shoulders. It is a clear indication that he doesn’t want to talk anymore. Dongju wishes that he had the confidence to _make_ him speak, to show him that he can confide in him about how he’s feeling after what happened, but his courage fails him. Maybe he used it all up this morning in the office. Maybe after a good night of sleep, he’ll recharge his bravery-batteries.

He’s certainly going to need them tomorrow.

~

‘Hwanwoong?’

Blood rushes in his ears. His reflection glares back at him, dark shadows around his eyes giving him a dangerous look. He throws his arms out and back to his chest, closing his fingers on his silk shirt with a grip so tight that it might tear.

‘ _Hwanwoong_!’

He turns around and lets go of the wounded fabric. Dongju is stood in the doorway with a worried look on his face.

‘You need to come to make-up.’

‘Oh.’ Has he been practising for so long? He changed into his stage-clothes early, eager to get away from the prying eyes of some of the staff, and came to this room to run through the choreography. Dancing is what keeps him sane, no matter what else is going on in his mind. Steps and time – _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8_. That’s a rhythm that the world can stick to, even when everything else is in chaos. If he can keep his body in time, then the waves won’t pull him under.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he lies, because dread is making his skin sting. ‘Do you think we should change the choreography? The part where we hold hands?’

Dongju’s face falters. ‘They haven’t told us to change it.’

Hwanwoong nods. Of course. They did nothing wrong. They’re acting as if nothing happened. Why would they change the choreography? ‘I need to do something,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

Dongju looks like he doesn’t want to leave, but he concedes, and Hwanwoong pulls out his phone. He can’t go on television in front of thousands of people without doing this first – he owes them this much. With a sigh, he taps on the contact number for his mom and holds the phone to his ear. He didn’t phone her last night, because he knew that she was on her shift at the emergency room, but he has no excuse today. Not when she messaged him during the night, asking him to call.

The first ring is painful; the second one is agony; the third one makes him want to hang up – but then she picks up the phone.

‘ _Hwanwoong?_ _Oh Hwanwoong, I thought you’d never call!_ ’

He closes his eyes and presses the phone close to his face. Even though worry still grips his gut, it is comforting just to hear her voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘I didn’t know when to call. I – I don’t have long, because I have to go to make-up. We’re still doing the show today.’

‘ _Talk to me, darling. Talk to me_.’

The corners of his eyes start to sting. _Not now, don’t cry now_ , he thinks. ‘I really screwed up, mom.’

‘ _Hwanwoong, don’t -_ ’

‘It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen. And now - ’

‘ _Slow down, love. It’s okay._ ’

‘D-did dad see it?’

She pauses, and Hwanwoong rubs his eyes with his free hand. This is the question that he’s been worried about. His mom is a nurse, a gentle and understanding person and he knows that he can count on her, but his dad can be a little more austere. It’s not that he’s too conservative or too harsh; he’s just not as… emotional, as his mom. ‘ _Yes, of course. We watch all of your shows. We talked about it, Hwanwoong. It’s okay. I’m your mother, I always suspected that this day was going to come. It’s okay_.’

He wants to deny it. He wants to lie and say that it meant nothing but the words of comfort are too important to reject. ‘I’m so confused, mom,’ he whispers and his voice breaks. ‘I don’t know what it means. I don’t know who I am.’

‘ _Listen to me. You’re Yeo Hwanwoong_ , _you’re my son,_ ’ she’s talking quickly, like she knows their minutes together will soon be taken from them by the stage. ‘ _You’re just you. You’re always going to be you. Everything else is just little details. Perfect little details that make you who you are._ ’

‘I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.’ He wipes away a tear that falls down his cheek with a furious hand.

‘ _Talk to me. Talk to your friends. Talk to Dongju. You’re surrounded by people, Hwanwoong. Don’t let this make you feel like you’re alone_.’

There’s another rap on the door and he looks up with wide, wet eyes. ‘I have to go. I really have to go.’

‘ _Hwanwoong -_ ’

‘I love you mom.’ He hangs up before he can cry any harder in front of her, but the silence makes it worse. Tears spill over the rims of his eyes and he finally cries, properly for the first time since the kiss, because every other moment has been fleeting or half-hearted. It’s as if he’s been saving up tears since the moment it happened, holding them back like a dam, but now the barriers are broken and he can’t hold back the rush of water. He should’ve let it out earlier, bit by bit, before it became a flood.

His shoulders shake and he runs his hands into his hair and he doesn’t even notice the door open or the moment that Youngjo crouches down beside him and puts an arm around his shoulders to try to still the shuddering.

‘Hwanwoong,’ he whispers, ‘Woongie you need to breathe.’

He does as he’s told but every time he tries to hold his breath in, it’s caught in a hiccup and a gasp. ‘Need to go to makeup,’ he says in between hiccups.

‘You can’t go on stage like this,’ murmurs Youngjo. ‘It’s okay. It’s too much, too fast. That’s okay. You don’t have to perform.’

‘N-need to support Dongju.’ He clears his throat with a hack and blinks angrily. _Brave Dongju_. He won’t let him face this alone.

‘And I need to support _you_. I don’t think you’re ready, Woong. You’re still in shock from everything that has happened.’

Hwanwoong shakes his head. ‘No. No. I’m going to perform. Need to show the world… there’s nothing wrong.’

There’s a lot that he needs to do, starting now with taking out his tear-blurred contacts and ending somewhere in the future with telling the truth to Dongju, who might still be feeling alone as the rest of the world moves around him. A bit of make-up will cover his red face, and in a few minutes his eyes won’t look so puffy anymore. He won’t let Dongju walk out there by himself. He owes him that much.

When they arrive at the small styling room, everyone turns to look at him and then back away quickly. There are only three chairs so a couple of the members are stood as the stylists work on their hair. A rack of spare clothes in case of rips or other emergencies is against one wall, and Hwanwoong eyes a dark red silk shirt, aware that there are tears staining the neck of the one that he pulled on earlier. His make-up artist crosses over and tilts his face to one side with her hand before sighing.

It’s a sympathetic sound, rather than an irritable one.

~

Finding a sense of routine steadies the earth under Dongju’s feet. With the music show finished, there are a few precious hours in which he can exist in peace at home. Tomorrow morning, they will travel to filming again. Only now, when each show costs every ounce of effort in his body, does he realise how punishing the promotion circuit is. Even after today there are five more music shows to film before they have a day off, and in a few days’ time they have to record their first variety show since the kiss. He can only imagine the questions that will come.

Now, though, the cold tiles of the bathroom floor remind him that he’s out of the hot seat. He takes off his make-up with meticulous attention and leans over the basin to look into the mirror. His red hair needs to be dyed again before it begins to fade to pink, but he’s not due a colour for two more days. There’s a breakout threatening his chin and he’s sure that it is the stress but he doesn’t want to apply any of his expensive products until after his shower so he turns away from the mirror and starts to slip out of his clothes.

As the material slides off his skin he gets the feeling that he’s shedding a skin. This is the thick skin that he wore on stage today, when he checked with the managers whether they had been able to fill their section for the fans, when he panicked and messed up a step before the part of the choreography where he and Hwanwoong hold hands, and when he felt the eyes of other idols boring into the back of his neck during the live show. When he’s naked, he feels soft again. Vulnerable.

The shower in their newer dorm heats up quickly, and when he slips under the stream tension unfolds from his muscles and he lets the hot water spill down his back. He takes several deep breaths through his mouth and rests his hands flat against the white tiles. It is already late but he does not feel tired yet. Too much noise fills his head.

He thinks about Hwanwoong. The image of him in the dressing room, red-eyed and puffy-faced, voice croaky, is seared into his mind. He would never have expected it of his hyung but he thinks that Hwanwoong might not be handling it as well as he himself is. Maybe Keonhee is right, and there is something else going on inside him, but then Dongju ends up at the same place as his friend. If he wants to support him, then in what way can he do so when Hwanwoong refuses to confide in him?

Dongju recalls how it was before he came out to Dongmyeong. He remembers how he would lie awake at night gripped in a vice of worry and spiralling thoughts about how maybe, just maybe people would not accept it. If Hwanwoong is confused, or questioning, or even sure of who he is but keeping it locked inside, then Dongju knows exactly what will have been going on in his mind: the feeling of total isolation, trying to convince himself that it’s not real, living in terror of the consequences of something he cannot control. Something that shouldn’t have _consequences_ at all.

He washes his hair and looks down at the tray of body-washes. Everyone likes different scents, but Dongju usually just steals from one of the other members. He likes Hwanwoong’s pink floral scent the most but he feels like it would be provocative to use that now, so he picks out the bottle of Keonhee’s lavender wash instead with a silent apology for his regular act of theft.

Caught in thoughts again as he traces his hands over his soft stomach and thin arms, he wonders what sort of man Hwanwoong would go for, if he were interested. Maybe someone like Geonhak or Youngjo, bigger and stronger than him, or the dancers they work with because they have more in common with him. They’d have lots to talk about. Dongju can’t imagine any realm of possibility in which Hwanwoong would be interested in _him_.

‘Stop,’ he says aloud, like a red sign in his way. Dongmyeong told him to stop putting himself down.

Hwanwoong loves him, even if it’s not in the way he daydreams about. And that’s a gift. They cuddle and they laugh together and they’ve cried together. He gets to have the man he loves in his life every single day, and he’s grateful for that.

He stays under the water for a long time, until his skin starts to go wrinkly and the heat makes him dizzy. Only when he’s engulfed by a further cloud of steam as he opens the shower door does he realise quite how much he’s drenched the room in condensation. Quickly, he grabs up his towels and starts to pummel his skin dry. He used to go to the bedroom to get dressed but Hwanwoong is there, and that feels different now.

His skin is still damp when he pulls on his stripy pyjama pants and tee but he desperately needs to open the door to let some of the heat out.

A sigh of relief breaks from his lips when he sticks his head out into the cool corridor, and he throws the door wide while he does the rest of his skincare. The routine is an act of self-care that brings peace to his ever-nervous stomach. He steals a blob of Youngjo’s most luxuriant moisturiser, with another unspoken apology, and smiles as he pats it into his skin. The scent is almond and macadamia.

Only when everything is done and he pulls his hair back into a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck does he leave the bathroom at last and venture back to the bedroom. Keonhee is already in bed, limbs splayed out with one foot sticking from under the blankets, and when Dongju looks left he sees that Hwanwoong is in bed too, but he’s propped up looking at his phone.

‘Goodnight, hyung,’ whispers Dongju.

Hwanwoong looks up and shuts his phone off before fiddling nervously with the collar of his lilac pyjamas. They cross over with a velvety tie at the front because Hwanwoong hates buttons when he’s sleeping; he says they wake him up when they jab into his bones. Dongju knows this because they’ve always told each other everything. Except for the things that they didn’t tell each other; that they haven’t told each other. ‘Dongju?’

‘Mm?’

‘Can we still… do the thing we used to do?’

It takes a moment for Dongju to realise what he means, and then his heart swells so huge that he thinks it might burst from his chest. He’d put the thought from his mind, assuming that too much had changed between them, and that Hwanwoong wouldn’t want to do that anymore.

It was one of Dongju’s more embarrassing confessions, at least a year ago now, when he admitted to Hwanwoong that he couldn’t sleep without something to cuddle, and that sometimes plushies weren’t enough. Instead of laughing at him though, Hwanwoong had invited him into his bed and rolled onto his side so that Dongju could hold him while they slept. That first time was the best night of sleep that Dongju had had in his life. It had gone on, as many as two or three times a week. Hwanwoong would never admit to getting anything from it, claiming that he tolerated it just to help Dongju sleep.

But Dongju’s always thought that Hwanwoong must like to be held, too.

‘Yeah,’ Dongju exhales and he walks to the bed with quiet fox-like steps in case Keonhee is already asleep. If he knows Keonhee at all, though, he bets that he’s still awake, listening to their every move. ‘I’d like that.’

Hwanwoong shuffles up to the side of the mattress against the wall. It is only a single bed, so it is a squeeze, but by the time that they cuddle up they never occupy too much space anyway. When Dongju climbs into the bed, he does so more delicately than before, like he’s nervous about touching Hwanwoong accidentally. Only when he settles down on his side takes a very deep breath does he wrap his arm over Hwanwoong’s body and pull him close against his chest.

Hwanwoong tugs up the blankets over them and curls his own hands under his cheek, facing the wall. His frame is so familiar but Dongju feels like he’s holding him for the very first time, suddenly hyper-aware of every detail. He’s small and quite bony but there’s a layer of muscle from his dancing, and he has a high body-temperature, much higher than Dongju’s. That sweet, floral scent of his body-wash is all over the back of his neck, and Dongju tries to breathe it in with subtlety.

‘This is nice,’ whispers Hwanwoong.

Dongju takes that as a reassurance, and he tightens his grip. ‘Good,’ he murmurs back.

When Hwanwoong is in his arms, it doesn’t feel like winter anymore.

~

For the third day in a row, Hwanwoong wakes up with Dongju in his bed. They’ve slipped back into this cycle with ease, but already Hwanwoong can’t bear the thought of the night when Dongju is going to return to his own bunk instead. Feeling close to him, that has become the new lifeline that he depends on. It’s all down to the fact that only the two of them can truly understand what they are going through, that even though the others can try their best to help them, only Dongju can relate to the fear every day in Hwanwoong’s tummy.

This morning, Dongju is still asleep. The music show for today does not film until much later but they have a variety show to record a few hours beforehand. There is no sound in the room, so Keonhee is either fast asleep or already awake and out in the kitchen. Hwanwoong can’t peer around to look because the slightest movement might disturb Dongju’s slumber.

Sometime during the night, Hwanwoong must have turned around in Dongju’s arms because his face is close against his neck and chest, and his arms are all crammed in against his body to fit in Dongju’s tight embrace. Immobilised, he tries to concentrate on falling back asleep, but it is difficult when he’s so aware of Dongju all around him. With the heating switched on and their blankets knotted around their bodies, Hwanwoong is _hot_.

There’s a scent of lavender on Dongju’s chest and for some reason it reminds him of Keonhee. For some _stranger_ reason, it makes Hwanwoong feel oddly irritated. Dongju used to steal _his_ nice soaps all the time and then feign total ignorance when the bottles ran dry. Why has he switched to Keonhee’s?

He fidgets just a little because he’s starting to lose feeling in one of his arms. As Dongju lets out a sigh, he freezes. It ruffles the top of his hair. Only when everything turns still again does Hwanwoong try again to extricate his arm and then –

‘Stop moving,’ mumbles Dongju in a petulant voice.

‘You’re squashing me!’ whines Hwanwoong. He puts on his best cute voice, the one that always wins over Youngjo and Geonhak when he wants something.

Dongju though just laughs and holds him tighter until Hwanwoong starts to squirm. ‘I can’t help it, you’re my plushie!’

Hwanwoong giggles and manages to free himself, but then his legs tangle in the blankets and the heat hits him and the bunk overhead is too low and he starts to panic. It comes out of nowhere, a black cloud of anxiety and he needs to get out of here. He kicks out, one hand grasping the front of Dongju’s shirt to try to push him away. Dongju, though, takes his arms with a firm grip and pulls him out of the bed into the bedroom as his breaths shorten to quick gasps.

‘Hyung? Hwanwoong it’s okay,’ he drops any hint of formality.

Hwanwoong leans over and grips the side of the nightstand as he closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down. He counts to ten in his mind. He knows that Dongju is aware of his claustrophobia, because all of the members are. In their profession, it’s hard to avoid situations where the fear bubbles to the surface; dark, compact corridors backstage, less-than-head-height passages _beneath_ the stage, and endless travel in steel prisons. ‘I’m alright,’ he whispers.

‘I shouldn’t have held you so tight. I’m sorry,’ says Dongju. He rubs his hand in a gentle circle on Hwanwoong’s back. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘It wasn’t you,’ he shakes his head. ‘Just the bed. Just got caught up.’

‘Do you want us to stop cuddling at night?’

‘ _No_!’ he says, a little too quickly.

‘Do you think we should ask Keonhee to trade beds with you? If the bunk is too low?’

Hwanwoong shakes his head again, wishing that he could find a way to explain that his claustrophobia has only worsened in the last few days, with the crushing weight of the world around him beginning to close in like the walls of his nightmares. Cabin fever is starting to get to him, because between the cameras and fans camped outside their dorm, and the gruelling promotion schedule, they are not spending any time outside.

He longs to walk down to the local restaurant to pick up some take-out food, or to the gongcha place on the corner, or even just down to the river to breathe in some fresh air.

‘It’s alright, Dongju. I’m fine.’

He’s not fine. Not now that they’re stood in the centre of the familiar bedroom and the soft moment they shared in bed is a distant memory. Reality is all around them, and reality means going to film a show and being interviewed properly for the first time since the kiss.

The room is a mishmash of the three of them. Most of the bric-a-brac belongs to Dongju, because he enjoys collecting things and the rest of them spoil him. Hwanwoong doesn’t keep so many possessions himself, only one shelf of books and games and some trinkets next to the bunk-bed. Keonhee’s stamp is on the walls; there are letters from fans pinned up beside his bed, so many of them that they rest three-deep against the paintwork.

Hwanwoong brushes his hair back from his forehead and centres himself. After days of terrible anxiety, he has learned to ground himself quicker than he ever could before. ‘Let’s go and see what the others are making for breakfast,’ he says, and he reaches out to ruffle Dongju’s hair, like he has done since they first met.

Perhaps he lets his hand linger for longer than usual, allowing a few strands to trail between his fingers, before he drops it to his side.

~

The environment of the variety show is a draining one for Dongju, and he thinks that it must be even harder for Hwanwoong, because he is the one along with Keonhee who does the most talking. Thus far, the hosts have been friendly; before the show, they were briefed strictly not to mention what happened on the music show, and they have obeyed instruction without question. Nonetheless, though, Dongju cannot relax. Even more than usual, he is hyper-aware of his every movement.

When they are seated on small white cubes, he cannot decide whether to keep his legs crossed or uncrossed, so he fidgets the whole time. When they stand up, he cannot figure out what to do with his hands, and he clasps them in front of himself and then behind and then keeps them loose at his sides. Did he always have this many limbs? Suddenly it seems impossible to keep all of them in check.

He does not usually answer many questions, content to sit back and let the older members do the talking, but he is so on-edge today that he feels the need to focus on every word, in case something dangerous slips in.

As Hwanwoong talks, Dongju finds himself watching him, and that’s something else that he has to police. He tries not to stare, afraid that the camera will capture his lovelorn eyes. But Hwanwoong is so magnificent. No matter what he is feeling inside, he talks with ease, and laughs, and carries every conversation with charisma. Even though all of the attention is on him, his voice doesn’t waver. The only thing that betrays his nerves is the way that he fans himself whenever he steps back, because Dongju knows he gets hot around his neck.

Looking down at his hands, he lets Hwanwoong’s voice wash over him instead. It has a sharp sort of timbre that Dongju enjoys listening to, not as deep as Geonhak’s or pointed as Keonhee’s but appealing in the way it comes from low in his throat, and the way that he shapes the sounds with precision. Then, he laughs, and it hurts Dongju’s heart because he thinks that it is the most beautiful laugh in the world. Hwanwoong always hides his face when he laughs and Dongju wishes that he wouldn’t, because it’s such a full and rich sound that he needs to see the smile to go with it.

His eyes drift up and he watches for a while as Hwanwoong answers a question. For the first time in days he looks carefree, the smile easy and genuine.

If it is one thing that Dongju has observed over his years, it is that level waters rarely stay peaceful for long. Sometimes the disturbance begins with ripples on the surface, while other times it crashes in on the back of a vast rogue wave that emerges from nowhere and destroys everything in its path. For this reason, Dongju has learned to enjoy the water while it _is_ steady, and he tries not to think about when the boat will start to rock, but today he’s been expecting it.

‘Xion?’

He looks over to the host who has addressed him, always a little caught off guard by his stage name when he has been distracted. After a moment of panic, he remembers that they are reading out fan questions from the live feed. He smiles and tears his attention from Hwanwoong back to the interview.

‘The fans want to know, what is your ideal type? For a girl?’

He knows from the look in her eyes that it’s no accident. In fact, within a second he’s certain that no fan asked that at all. His mouth turns dry and he wishes that he had Hwanwoong’s quick wit with answering questions. And he wishes, more than anything, that he had some kind of restraint, some kind of _control_ over his body but he’s weak, and his eyes flicker over to Hwanwoong for a split second that, just like their kiss, will be immortalised in video forever.

 _Why are you looking? It’s not like someone else can answer for you_.

‘I’d say that my type is a person who makes me feel safe and warm,’ he says, and once he starts talking the words roll out with less difficulty than he expected. Instead of anxiety, his stomach is starting to burn with irritation and anger, _frustration_ that they would prod at him like an animal in a zoo. ‘The appearance of the person isn’t so important, because what matters is how they treat you and how they make you feel loved.’

Seoho makes an excited sound and the others join in, like a playful joke at their youngest being too romantic. When Dongju chances another glance at Hwanwoong, he sees that he hasn’t joined in, but is instead watching Dongju with a look that he can’t read.

‘Hwanwoong,’ the host directs next, and Dongju watches the way his eyes flit back to her with a wary, guarded look. ‘This might be a cheeky one, but the people want to know. You have to tell us about your first kiss.’

It’s a relief that Dongju has an excuse to look at him now, because otherwise he would not be able to keep his eyes away. If alarm bells are blaring through Hwanwoong’s veins, then he does an admirable job of keeping it from his face. Youngjo glances over off camera, quite obviously looking for their managers, but there is nothing to be done. The question is asked.

‘Was it at school? I think everyone has that first love at school,’ the host presses, and her smile is sickly sweet, dressed up in coral coloured gloss. ‘Or was it later?’

‘I was too busy dancing to think about that sort of thing at school,’ says Hwanwoong, and his voice sounds different to normal but Dongju is sure that no one else would even notice the slight change. Only someone who swam in the sound of his voice all day every day would notice. ‘Maybe it was when we played the paper-kissing game with our members.’ A smile twitches up the corners of his lips. ‘But if I could remember, then I wouldn’t tell you. A gentleman doesn’t tell.’

When his eyes turn back to the host again, Dongju cannot figure out whether the way she flicks her hair is annoyance at not getting the answer she wanted, or satisfaction at having asked without retribution. The hairs on his arms are standing and his throat is dry and scratchy from worry, because they still have a segment left to film and now he has never felt less safe.

When Dongju does catch the eye of Manager Jeong behind the camera, halfway through the final segment, he can see that he is bristling with rage. That makes Dongju gulp. Although he thinks that he and Hwanwoong answered the questions well, he begins to analyse their responses over and over in his head and worries that they may have said the wrong thing. The more that he tries to remember their exact wording, the cloudier the memory becomes. He doesn’t want to get into trouble again.

The recording crawls by.

Nothing else is said, but every time either of the hosts speaks up, Dongju’s heart constricts in worry again. There are only so many smiles that he can force, and whenever he chances a look at Hwanwoong he sees that he, too, seems to be faltering. His answers to questions become more clipped, and the smile on his lips does not even begin to reach his eyes.

When the wrap is called, Hwanwoong does not lead the group in a thank you greeting to the production team, and instead runs an agitated hand through his hair and jumps straight down from the set before pushing his way through the surrounding staff to get away. None of the others seem to be inclined towards pleasantries either, and Youngjo is the first to follow Hwanwoong with worry in his eyes. Dongju stands on the elevated set and looks around with a blank expression, unsure of what to do. Only when the rest of the members go after Hwanwoong, Geonhak managing a bow, does he accept that it’s safe for him to do so and he follows too.

He’s barely past the cameras though, when Manager Jeong confronts him. ‘What the _hell_ was that?’

Dongju looks after the other members with a longing look, like he’s the last straggler in a fleeing pack of prey animals, who has been caught by the lion. Dragged down to the dusty earth. ‘I - ’

‘Are you _stupid_?’

‘I didn’t know what to say!’ he says, in a small but defensive voice. ‘It’s not my fault that they asked that!’

Manager Jeong grabs him by the shoulder to hold him still and look into his eyes. ‘You couldn’t keep your eyes off him! Do you have any idea how much harder the two of you are making my job? I don’t care what you are but this sort of thing is messing with _my_ work. All I’m asking is for you to not behave like an idiot in front of the cameras!’

Dongju swallows and tries to shrug his shoulder free. His eyes flicker around in search of Manager Byun, but he must have gone after Hwanwoong. There are members of the filming crew dotted around, though, and when Dongju tries harder to pull free, the manager cannot risk keeping hold of him any longer. Shaken by his anger, Dongju hurries away after the other members, so fast that he almost collides headlong into Geonhak, who is waiting in a nearby corridor.

‘Dongju!’ Geonhak catches him. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I want to talk to Youngjo-hyung,’ he mumbles.

‘He just went to get some water for Hwanwoong,’ says Geonhak in a gentle tone, ‘what do you need?’

 _Geonhak can help too_ , he thinks. With a shaky breath he starts: ‘Do you remember what Youngjo said? That I needed to tell him if anyone made me feel uncomfortable?’

Geonhak nods and takes his arm. Unlike the manager, his touch is light and careful and comforting. ‘Who? Who’s made you uncomfortable?’

‘Manager Jeong,’ he whispers, looking over his shoulder. ‘I know he’s always been strict but he seems to be really mad and he just had a go at me in front of other people. I don’t – I don’t like it.’

‘Okay,’ Geonhak ruffles his hair and cups his neck with a reassuring hand. ‘I’ll talk to Youngjo-hyung. We’ll get things fixed. I promise.’

Dongju exhales and tries to calm his beating heart. ‘I thought that we did okay.’

‘The two of you handled it well,’ says Geonhak. ‘I was proud of both of you. You did great.’

After a moment, in which Dongju looks over his shoulder at least three more times, his heart starts to steady, and his mind strays to the music show that they have to record later. There will not be even a moment to catch his breath.

‘You’re doing good,’ Geonhak reminds him. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’

~

‘Can I ask you a question, hyung?’

Hwanwoong shifts and thinks that he’s had enough questions for one day. Nonetheless, though, he closes his eyes and nods, hoping that Dongju will feel the movement against the pillow. After the events of the day, Hwanwoong was glad that Dongju came to hold him, because he thought that he needed it even more. Between the uncomfortable interview questions, and failing to make it into the final two of their music show, Hwanwoong was feeling miserable before Dongju climbed into his bed. Now, his pain has abated a little.

‘You’ve never told me, when _was_ your first kiss?’

A small laugh escapes Hwanwoong’s lips and he rests his fingers on Dongju’s forearm, where his arms are wrapped tight around his waist. ‘I lied on the show,’ he admits, ‘I haven’t always been too busy with dance. I had a girlfriend, one of the other trainees, for a while before you joined the company.’

‘You did?’

‘Mmhm,’ he murmurs, remembering Yejin. She was a year older than him, and one of the best dancers he’d ever seen. ‘We didn’t tell anyone, of course. We would’ve got into big trouble with the company.’

‘How did it end?’ whispers Dongju.

With a sigh, Hwanwoong turns onto his back and looks up at the underside of Dongju’s unused bunk. ‘She left the company for another,’ he shrugs, ‘I was sad, but we were young. It was fun. But it wasn’t meant to be forever.’

‘Oh,’ says Dongju, and his voice suggests that he’s in thought.

Hwanwoong thinks about the kiss itself, and tries to remember if there were fireworks or angel song or any of the other things that he was promised. Mostly, he remembers worrying about whether or not he was good at it. ‘What about you, Dongie?’ he switches to his most affectionate name for him, because he knows that for this kind of question he’ll need to _earn_ an answer. ‘Any secret trysts?’

Dongju rolls onto his back too, and they lie side by side, both looking up at the metal slats and the lopsided mattress. ‘No.’

‘So…?’

‘I guess it was… you know, when we kissed on the stage.’

At that, Hwanwoong sits up. A stone drops into the pit of his stomach as he realises that his confusion on that stage has cost Dongju the chance at an important first. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, because that’s the first thing that he thinks. Beside him, Dongju looks upwards still, soft red hair falling all over his forehead. Hwanwoong notices that his eyes have some smudges of make-up beneath them, and he resists the urge to brush his thumbs over the dark marks to wipe them away.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ says Dongju. When he’s not playing up to his role as the baby of the group, his voice is deeper, the pronunciation clearer, and it always reminds Hwanwoong that while the Dongju in front of the camera is great, the Dongju that he knows at home is even better. His tone is attractive. ‘They say your first time should be with someone you trust, right? Well you’re like my best friend. I’m glad it was with you.’

‘I don’t think they’re talking about kissing when they say that,’ laughs Hwanwoong, but inside his heart gives a strange lurch at Dongju’s words. Not for the first time, his mind drifts back to the first time that he really _noticed_ Dongju during filming; not noticed him as his friend or their brother, but _noticed_ him. The way his hair was pushed back from his face by the breeze, and the way he moved with a newfound grace.

‘Have you done that too?’ asks Dongju, and then he visibly cringes as if he’s just realised what he said.

Even though heat rises on Hwanwoong’s neck in a red rush, he hopes that the smile on his face still looks playful. ‘That’s a very personal question.’

Expression a picture of embarrassment, Dongju grabs a pillow and covers his face with a groan.

‘You’re much too young to be talking about such things,’ sniffs Hwanwoong.

At that, though, Dongju pulls down the pillow and glares at him. ‘I’m over twenty years old! I’m not a baby! You all should stop treating me like one. It makes me feel stupid!’

It is clear in a second that he’s not joking, and that Hwanwoong has struck a nerve. He frowns and takes the pillow from Dongju’s hands to set it aside, before crossing his legs and tilting his head to one side. ‘I was joking, Dongju.’

‘Well _don’t_ ,’ says Dongju in a voice that must be intended to be harsh but just sounds more than a little hurt.

‘Hey,’ Hwanwoong catches his hands and holds them still as Dongju makes to climb out of the bed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know that this bothers you so much. You could’ve told me and I would’ve stopped a long time ago. I thought you liked it.’

Dongju flops back on the bed, unable to escape, and huffs as Hwanwoong interlinks their fingers and squeezes his hands gently.

‘You should tell the other members. I’m sure they just don’t realise.’

‘I don’t care about the others doing it,’ says Dongju, and then for the second time he looks aghast at his own loose tongue. If Hwanwoong did not have hold of his hands, then he thinks he would have clapped his hand over his mouth.

Confused, Hwanwoong asks, ‘what do you mean?’

‘I don’t know. I just meant - ’ Dongju’s eyes are in a panic, almost like they were in the moment after the fateful kiss; that’s an image that will be seared into Hwanwoong’s memory forever. ‘I just look up to you, and I don’t want you thinking I’m just like some kid. I want you to – to respect me. Like we’re equals.’

‘Did I make you feel like I don’t respect you?’ Hwanwoong whispers. ‘Dongju, I never meant to make you feel like that. I respect you more than anything.’

Dongju tugs his hands free and stumbles off the bed. ‘No, that’s not what I meant! It’s not you, it’s never been you, it’s me,’ he stammers, like he’s grabbing around in the darkness for an explanation but each other is pushing him further into the corner. ‘I want to go to bed.’

By means of escape, he climbs up onto the top bunk and Hwanwoong stares out into the bedroom in complete confusion. The bed creaks and wobbles as Dongju moves, and Hwanwoong knows that he’s hiding under his blue blanket. From across the dimly lit room, an awake Keonhee meets Hwanwoong’s eyes and gives him a shrug. Unable to contemplate going to sleep now, Hwanwoong finds his phone and follows Dongju out of bed, but this time he takes himself to the kitchen.

‘I thought he liked it,’ he mumbles to himself, feeling ashamed.

‘Liked what?’

Hwanwoong jumps when he sees Seoho raiding the refrigerator. ‘Nothing,’ he says quickly, but his cheeks are scarlet.

~

On their one day off from music show promotions, the group still attend the studio. They arrive early in the morning, sleep cycles disrupted from the promotion circuit, to a spattering of cameras waiting outside the company building. There are not as many as there were a few days ago, and Dongju finds himself wondering whether it is too soon to say that things could be quietening down. The six of them are walked inside by Manager Byun, who leaves them at the door of the dance studio with the promise that he’ll bring up drinks and snacks for them within the hour.

‘Manager Byun?’ asks Dongju in a small voice before he leaves, looking over his shoulder as the others get ready for practice. ‘Where’s Manager Jeong?’

He asks because it is usually Manager Jeong who drives them to the studios, and because he wants to know how best to avoid any residual wrath. To his surprise, though, Manager Byun gives him a look of confusion. ‘He’s been reassigned, Dongju. I thought that you already knew that?’

‘Oh – oh I didn’t,’ he says in astonishment. He prays that the relief isn’t written all over his face, because he thinks that that might be disrespectful. Even if he has to run into Manager Jeong around the company building, he still thinks that this is a turn up that he never could have expected to come his way so easily. His eyes stray to Youngjo, who is pulling off his black hoodie and checking his phone. When he shuffles over there, Youngjo looks up with a smile.

‘Okay, Dongju?’

‘Did you get Manager Jeong reassigned?’ he asks in a rush.

Youngjo looks a little tired, like he was up during the night, but no one is ever allowed into his room because he’s anxiously protective of his private space, so Dongju does not know if he has slept. ‘Geonhak told me that he was making you feel unsafe, and I’m not going to let that happen. There’s enough going on outside without you having to deal with it inside too.’ With that, he makes a vague gesture towards the door, and Dongju figures that he’s referring to the press.

‘Thank you,’ he whispers, somewhat in awe of Youngjo’s nerve.

‘I meant what I said, Dongju. We’re all here to protect you. Both of you.’

Dongju nods and looks over at Hwanwoong.

This is Hwanwoong in his element. Though he thrives on the stage, there is something different about him here in dance practice. It reminds him of watching Youngjo in the music studio. There’s a zone that he slips into, a zone that’s completely inaccessible from the outside, but it doesn’t matter because Dongju is content to watch.

Today, Hwanwoong is dressed in loose white sweats with red seams, and an oversized sweater of dark green. Even though the others are still getting ready, he has already started running through steps in front of the mirror, eyes focused on his own reflection. His bangs are pushed back from his face with a narrow black band, exposing his high forehead, and without make-up his skin looks fresh and decorated with little blemished details that only the people closest to him can witness, like the richest custodians of illustrious paintings.

At some point, Dongju realises that he’s staring, but even that realisation doesn’t stop him. Seoho is fiddling with the sound system, and Keonhee is over playing with the lights, and if anyone else wants to watch him stare then they can. Just for a moment. Dongju needs to drink Hwanwoong in while he’s focussed like this.

‘I want to run through the b-side,’ says Hwanwoong, when the music buzzes from Keonhee’s phone into the system. He turns, and Dongju tears his eyes away, concentrating instead on re-lacing his sneakers. ‘Come on,’ he claps his hands once and Dongju jumps to attention even more dramatically than the others.

Hwanwoong can be a ferocious taskmaster when they practice as a group, far more intimidating than their choreographer or dance teachers. He does not like wasted time or procrastination or what he calls ‘ _dilly-dallying around_ ’. Dongju understands because dancing is what Hwanwoong takes _seriously_ ; it’s more than a job to him, more than a tiring part of the bigger picture that the rest of them accept because they have to. It’s his life.

And Dongju loves to watch him live his life.

Still, after two hours of practice, Dongju is ready to collapse, no matter how much he wants to impress Hwanwoong. Ever since he joined the company, he has worked overtime at his dancing for two reasons: firstly, he will do just about anything in the hopes of earning a compliment from Hwanwoong, and secondly, it has meant staying late with him at the studio after the others have gone home, over and over and over. He told himself that it was all in the interest of progress, of course.

Now, when he looks back on that time, he’s not so sure.

‘Okay, let’s break,’ says Hwanwoong. Although his chest is rising and falling heavily and sweat shines on his face, his voice sounds quite steady.

Youngjo immediately collapses to the floor with a groan and rolls onto his back. Keonhee and Seoho race to the door on a quest for refreshments. Geonhak puts his head between his knees like he thinks he’s going to faint.

Dongju, though, does his very best to appear composed. Even though he wants to drop to the floor too, he stays bolt upright and crosses to Hwanwoong, panting hard but smiling nonetheless. ‘I think the dance is looking really good, hyung,’ he says, trying to fill his voice with enthusiasm. As he speaks, he remembers that his hair has stuck to his forehead and he pushes it back with a quick, rough hand. Are his cheeks too red? He hopes not.

‘I think so too,’ says Hwanwoong.

Between the two of them, in the small gap, there is a strange electricity. It does not exist when they are cuddling, or when they’re crammed together in the car, but for some reason it crackles now, perhaps because amongst the exertion they have let their guard down. Dongju could be imagining it, but then he watches as Hwanwoong’s eyes slide down his body a little and back up to his face.

Dongju resists the urge to cross his arms over his body, aware that his damp tee is clinging to every curve and line. Dongmyeong has told him before that he needs to keep his body language open instead of closing off so much, and he’s found that it helps. Already, people talk about how much his confidence has grown, and talking to people has become easier. With his posture relaxed and his chin tilted up, he feels older and bolder.

Even if he stands no chance with him, Dongju still wants to become the sort of man that Hwanwoong _would_ be attracted to.

In moments like this, though, a quiet voice at the back of his mind begins to try to convince him that it wouldn’t be so ridiculous. Perhaps it’s his own crush playing tricks on him, but he’s sure that Hwanwoong glances his way too, sometimes, and that there’s something in the way that he drags his eyes across him. No one else let’s Dongju crawl into their bed every night, either.

As if snapped from his reverie when the door flies back open, Hwanwoong jumps and blinks three times in rapid succession. Keonhee emerges, brandishing snacks, but Dongju doesn’t even turn. His eyes are fixed on the way that Hwanwoong swipes a quick tongue over his dry lips and dabs the back of his hand against his hot neck.

‘Why do I feel like I’m interrupting something?’ laughs Keonhee, pushing an energy bar into Dongju’s hand. It’s an offhand joke, the sort that they make to each other all the time, but Hwanwoong clears his throat and shakes his head.

‘Daydreaming,’ he says, and he looks away.

Dongju wishes that he’d keep his eyes on him for longer. The spots that he laid his gaze upon are tingling. Hwanwoong might as well have brushed a tender, intimate caress over his skin with the way that his body reacts to his fleeting interest.

~

Every day goes by in a blur. They fade past the windows of Hwanwoong’s vision the same way that the over-ground trains rocketed past his bedroom window as a child in a small apartment on the less affluent side of Seoul. Back then, they lived out of two main rooms, Hwanwoong’s bedroom the converted living room, and the trainline was so loud that he learned to sleep with the quarter-hourly rumble and rattle until it was so familiar that he found it hard to rest without it.

Today shoots by like the faster trains that didn’t stop at every station.

The dawn start is a rush, because Dongju oversleeps and Seoho loses his bag. The morning is even quicker, a chaotic sequence of styling and make-up and costuming that takes a hit when Seoho’s jacket tears at the hem. The pre-recording for the music show races by, and Hwanwoong finds himself light-headed under the bright strobe lights, so dizzy that one of the team takes him aside to do a breathing exercise in between filming.

When the live stage begins, Hwanwoong fears that the bright lights will overwhelm him again. Outside, it is snowing, and the television staff have boosted the heat in the venue to compensate. Before they even start to dance, sweat beads on his forehead under the smooth layer of make-up.

By the time that it’s over, he wishes for home.

Bed.

Snuggling up with Dongju.

There, he feels safe.

He used to thrive during comeback time, but ever since the kiss he has found it more draining than ever before. Each schedule sucks a piece of life from him that he fears he’ll never get back. His heart used to beat faster on the stage from the thrill, but now it thuds with worry and anxiety. Now that his life has been shaken off its tracks once, he cannot shake the fear that it will happen again.

During the night, when he wakes up in cold sweats, he checks his phone to make sure that there’s no new revelation about him on the news. How can there be? The other members, his only brothers in this world, do not even know yet. But that reality doesn’t stop the all-consuming dread of his nightmares.

‘Alright?’ checks Youngjo beside him.

The stage is packed with all of the groups who have performed tonight. Oneus stand at the front, selected for the top two, and Hwanwoong waits between Youngjo and Geonhak, well away from Dongju lest something disastrous happen again. He plays with his hands in front of his stomach and tries to remind himself that they will be on camera, that his every fidget is captured for the world to see. ‘Fine,’ he says.

When the scores begin to be called, his eyes flicker up.

Math was never his strongest subject in school but he still scored well in his exams. There are certain categories in which they will struggle to compete, but others in which he knows they can excel. Numbers whizz across the forefront of his brain as he tallies, and he jumps a little when Youngjo’s hand rests at the small of his back in some kind of reassurance, and then the numbers are in the high thousands and it’s all scrolling too quick for him to make sense of and –

‘Oneus take their second win!’

The words are out of place, like they belong in another dimension. In this realm, such a gift cannot possibly be being bestowed upon them. Not after everything. Hwanwoong has begun to believe that good things will never come his way again after the mistake he made. When he can’t sleep, he convinces himself that a lifetime of bad luck is the punishment for risking his members’ futures like that.

Youngjo pulls him into a tight hug. Overhead, silver and gold ticker-tape explodes from two cannons and spills over them, as their song begins to play in the background. Silver confetti settles in Hwanwoong’s hair and he laughs as he begins to shake it out. Geonhak leans over and brushes away the excess, and from the corner of his eye Hwanwoong notices Dongju, pulled into a hug by Seoho and Keonhee. Quickly, he looks back down and concentrates on the moment.

_The moment._

Though it will go down on paper as their second win, to Hwanwoong if feels like the first. That first instance of euphoria, over a week ago, was flattened in a second by crushing fear, like a falling anvil on a tiny cartoon character. Now, as if wounded by the last time, his feelings take a moment to catch up with what is happening. Afraid to feel a moment of happiness, he swallows and stares at the microphone that Youngjo holds out for him.

 _I’m not ready_ , he tells him with his eyes.

Youngjo talks instead, followed by Keonhee.

Slowly, as he realises that the win isn’t going to be snatched away from them at any second, excitement builds in his stomach. A warmth spreads across his abdomen and rises up into his chest; at first, it could be confused for fear or anxiety that has become his natural state, but when it doesn’t start to burn Hwanwoong thinks that it might be joy. Geonhak squeezes his shoulders and his happiness reminds Hwanwoong that it’s real, that no one is waiting in the wings to take it from him.

‘Well done,’ says Geonhak, right against his ear.

Hwanwoong doesn’t know what the praise is for – for the stage? For the win? Or for managing not to throw himself onto Dongju again?

Whatever it is, it makes the warmth turn to a happy bubble, and a tingle runs down Hwanwoong’s spine as the realisation hits that it is possible for things to be good again.

~

In the dressing room, Dongju needs at least ten minutes just to convince himself that he is not dreaming. No amount of prodding his skin or trying to shake himself to wakefulness will do the job; this cannot be real. The thrill that was taken from them so quickly after their first win is like mist in the air, impossible to take hold of and make solid. Even as his heart pounds with excitement against his chest and his body buzzes with adrenaline, his mind still does not fully believe it.

His phone pings with congratulations messages, from his brother and his parents and all of his friends. He realises, a little absentminded when it comes to conscious thought, that they never received messages like this after the first win. Everyone must have been too shocked. He hadn’t even noticed.

Already there is talk of a party. Manager Byun is on the phone ordering food and drink for back at the dorm and Dongju’s heart jolts at the thought of how it will be to celebrate back home, not just with all of the members but with _Hwanwoong_ specifically. Will they be able to settle into the party? Act like nothing happened before and everything is okay again? Can they really treat this like the first win they deserved?

Normally he would take his make-up off before leaving, but today Dongju leaves it on. Even though it will only be him and the other members along with their managers, he still wants to look good. Every single day is a quest to impress Hwanwoong more than the last.

‘Can you believe it?’ beams Seoho as he runs into the dressing room, bag already slung over his shoulder. ‘Two wins. The fans voted for us, Dongju! And the digitals, the digitals were higher than ever!’

‘I know,’ he exhales. He knows, now, that they placed in first position for both the pre-vote and the live voting. It seems unbelievable but he is beginning to come to terms with the unbelievable.

‘Manager Byun is organising a party, we should get going.’ Seoho takes him by the hand and pulls him to his feet. ‘We earned this. You earned this.’

‘Where’s Hwanwoong?’ he asks, because it is the only thought on his mind.

Seoho looks around and then shrugs. ‘I don’t know. He must have already gone to the car. Let’s go.’

He tugs him along, but Dongju can’t help but keep peering around over his shoulder like he’s afraid that Hwanwoong will have hidden in a niche somewhere. What if they leave him behind? ‘Do you think - ’ he starts, just as they reach the exit to the covered parking lot and the ice cold air of outside hits him. He stops, because Hwanwoong is leant against the car waiting for them.

He’s hopping up and down, rubbing his hands together for warmth and breathing into them.

 _Why didn’t he wait in the car?_ Dongju thinks.

The part of his brain that sometimes tells the truth and sometimes does its very best to trick him, answers:

He was waiting for _you_.

~

The rooftop is freezing cold and snow dusts over every surface, like sparkling silver glitter. Grey clouds bring an ethereal light to the dark sky with a threat of further snow, and the moon is already cleaving a white passage between them. There are no stars visible, but their ghost lives on behind the clouds. The air is dry but that threat of snow feels more like a promise to Hwanwoong as he steps out onto the small terrace and takes his bottle and cup over to the low wall.

This side of the rooftop looks out over the back part of the building, so no camera lenses breach his peace. Other houses and apartments are packed in dense rows close against the dorm, but the curtains are drawn and the yellow glow behind the windows offers only a silhouette of a glimpse into the lives of others. How different they must be to his, but in some ways they may be the same: highs and lows, triumphs and tragedies. Despite the late hour, the lights beam on, in a city that doesn’t sleep.

Hwanwoong pours out another cup of the grape soju and drinks it back. Downstairs, the members are celebrating their second win with a vast spread of food and too many bottles of spirit to count. Manager Byun treated them to a special meal, and Hwanwoong is trying not to drink too much because he does not want a sore head in the morning, but with every cup the anxiety of the recent days starts to dwindle.

Outside, it’s easy to forget everything else.

Of all the members, Hwanwoong spends the most time on the roof terrace. Up here, his claustrophobia fades into nothingness, and he cannot wait until the summer when he’ll be able to lie down and look up at the stars and maybe even sleep on the smooth paving. Tonight, though, he wraps his baggy leather-look jacket tighter around his body and pulls down his beanie over his icy ears.

He jumps when he hears a sound, but a glance over his shoulder shows him that it is only Dongju, stepping out onto the terrace too with a crunch of snow underfoot and a wince at the sudden onslaught of cold air.

_It’s only Dongju._

Only Dongju?

Hwanwoong does not think that he’ll ever be _only-Dongju_ ever again.

‘Oh hey,’ says Dongju when he looks up. ‘Sorry, I thought there was no one up here! I wanted to get some air!’

‘It’s okay,’ answers Hwanwoong in a soft voice. He tips the last of his bottle into his cup and holds it up. ‘You know that I like some air too.’

Dongju crosses over and leans over the low balcony wall too. He’s thrown on a very fuzzy woollen jacket that makes him look like a little lamb, but already the tips of his uncovered ears are turning red from the cold. When Hwanwoong looks at him, he thinks that Dongju manages to look both cute and handsome in a way that he envies. Every time that the fans call _him_ cute, he wishes that they would call him handsome.

Dongju’s eyes are wide and pretty, dark brown like a doe’s, and his skin looks fresh and pink where he has scrubbed his make-up away. His hair is beginning to fade out to pink, and Hwanwoong wants to tell him that it suits him, but he can never find the right words. So acutely outlined are his pink lips that Hwanwoong wants to trace the curves with his fingertips just to know that they’re real. No longer can he keep a secret from himself, locked inside never to be confessed to his own conscience.

Dongju is beautiful.

And the soju is reminding him of that with prods of need like lightning bolts to his fingertips.

‘I never imagined that we’d get another win. Especially not after…’ Dongju trails off.

Hwanwoong drinks the last of his courage and sets the bottle down onto the wall. ‘Me neither. I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose we reacted better than last time,’ he adds with a laugh, which makes Dongju smile and turn away in embarrassment. Since their one significant heart-to-heart, they have done little to discuss what happened on that day, content to leave it in the past. Like many things, though, the _past_ fights against its abandonment. Questions live in Hwanwoong’s head forever.

Dongju licks his lips and looks down, and the expression suggests that he’s ready to say something. ‘I don’t think that we reacted so badly. I mean – I don’t think what we did was so terrible.’

The words squeeze an ache into Hwanwoong’s heart, because he knows what Dongju means but speaking such words from his own lips would mean giving into a reality that he has spent a long time running in circles trying to escape. ‘What do you mean?’ he says, mouth turning dry.

‘I think I’ve had too much soju,’ laughs Dongju.

Nothing about his words sounds like a joke to Hwanwoong, though. He turns to face him fully, aware that the cool breeze is turning his nose pink and lifting his washed hair into a fluffy cloud, but he cannot find it in his heart to care. ‘Do you not regret it?’

Dongju cannot meet his eyes, but with the help of the alcohol his words roll out into the night. ‘When I think about regrets, I don’t think about moments between us.’

An overwhelming instinct takes hold of Hwanwoong’s body, so viscerally that his mind cannot control it anymore. He lifts his hands and turns Dongju’s face towards him before standing up on the balls of his feet to press a kiss to his lips. It’s slow and measured yet utterly uncontrolled. Dongju’s lips are so cold that they feel like ice against his, but alone on the rooftop, the kiss feels warmer than the embrace on the hot stage in front of everyone.

Hwanwoong closes his eyes and lets himself live in a moment of paradise, when consequences don’t exist and the constant chatter in his brain is silenced. The crushing weight of the world around him is lifted. The first signs of oncoming snow in the air are the only disruption to total peace.

Dongju’s lips are cold but his hands are still just warm when he touches Hwanwoong’s face, palms on his jaw and fingertips featherlight on his cheeks.

Before this moment, Hwanwoong would never have thought that something could feel so safe and so dangerous all at once. Only when he pulls his lips away and rests his forehead down on Dongju’s shoulder does it hit him, what he has just done. He squeezes his eyes shut. A shaky breath breaks from his lips and he feels Dongju’s arms wrap around his shoulders.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, as if he knows what for.

‘It’s okay,’ murmurs Dongju, and his fingers rub gently at the nape of Hwanwoong’s neck, ‘it’s okay.’

Tears spike in Hwanwoong’s eyes but he has cried enough. He’s tired of crying. ‘I’m confused,’ he chokes out.

‘I know, trust me I know,’ says Dongju. He kisses Hwanwoong’s hair and it’s so tender that Hwanwoong’s sure he won’t be able to stop himself from falling apart, but something in the very back of his brain reminds him that he’s supposed to be keeping it together. Dongju’s hand shakes as it moves to Hwanwoong’s back and pulls him against him, but it could just be the cold. ‘I’m here for you. Right here for you.’

Hwanwoong inhales sharply and the distinct scent of his own floral body wash hits him from Dongju’s woollen jacket.

Although their first kiss was on the stage, in front of so many people, this one feels more risky. The first was a mistake, but for this one he has nothing to blame. The choice tastes more dangerous on his tongue. A daring choice and grape soju and Dongju’s lip balm, the heady cocktail of which he’ll never forget the taste.

‘It’s okay, hyung,’ repeats Dongju. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’

Not for the first time, Hwanwoong thinks that he would give anything in the world to have one ounce of Dongju’s courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/hvanwoong)


	2. Part 2

‘I was… terrified,’ says Dongju. ‘Frozen, and not from the snow. I never expected it.’

Pots and pans clatter as Dongmyeong makes his way around the small kitchen. This is usually Harin’s domain, but on occasion Dongmyeong likes to make his presence known, and when Dongju arrived at seven in the morning wrapped up in two puffer-jackets and a bear-eared hat, with the promise of important information, he took it upon himself to provide an appropriate backdrop of breakfast.

‘You told me you weren’t in love with him anymore, Dongju,’ he says in a stern tone. ‘You oughtn’t lie to your big brother.’

Dongju rolls his eyes like he always does when Dongmyeong refers to himself as such, as if a minute – give or take – makes so much difference. ‘I haven’t said that I am!’ he says defensively. ‘ _He_ kissed _me_.’

No one else can bear witness to this conversation. Not because Dongju is protective of his business, between the kiss on the stage and the confession in the CEO’s office, but more so because he is deeply protective of Hwanwoong’s. But he needs his brother. Dongmyeong is the one person in the world who he can trust with anything, and with whom he can talk with total honesty.

The scent of frying fish fills the kitchen, and Dongmyeong smiles smugly to himself, either in satisfaction at the turn his brother’s life has taken, or at the way that breakfast is going. It is hard to tell. ‘Sure he did.’

‘ _Dongmyeong!_ ’

‘But you did want him to, right?’

Dongju sighs. Already, he knows that there is no way out of this. ‘It’s _Hwanwoong_ , Myeongie. Yeo Hwanwoong. He’s perfect. Obviously I’m not upset that he… chose me.’

‘But it’s not just that,’ presses Dongmyeong, ‘you like him. You’ve always liked him.’

Dongju sits down on one of two barstools and buries his head in his hands. The events of the previous night were so unexpected, so ridiculous, that when he woke up he was convinced they were a dream. _Hwanwoong._ Hwanwoong _kissed_ him. It wasn’t an accident, and Dongju knows that it wasn’t his own subconscious pulling them together. It was all Hwanwoong. Dongju tries to keep his pounding heart steady, reminding himself that Hwanwoong is confused and struggling with himself and that it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

 _I’m the only boy that he knows who likes boys,_ Dongju tells himself, _I might just be the only person that he wasn’t afraid to experiment with_.

‘Yes,’ he sighs, ‘I like him. I’ve liked him for a very long time.’

Dongmyeong smirks and then bumps his shoulder. ‘See, this is a good thing.’

‘But he’s confused, Dongmyeong. He told me that. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling and that means he doesn’t understand what he feels about _me_. W-what if he’s just trying it out, to see if he likes it? I don’t want to be - ’ It hurts to voice the fear aloud, but with Dongmyeong he has to do it. ‘I don’t want to be just that guy. It’ll break me if he doesn’t want me after.’

Realising that the conversation has turned deadly serious, Dongmyeong takes the breakfast off the heat and turns with warm eyes to his brother. ‘You’re never going to be just that guy, Dongju. Any man in the world would be lucky to have you. Hwanwoong would be lucky to have you. He cares so much about you, and you mean so much to him. I’m sure he’d never lead you on, intentionally or unintentionally.’

Even though he knows that Dongmyeong is probably right, it doesn’t make it any easier to believe. Still, he nods, and scratches at the back of his neck. ‘I guess.’

‘But,’ starts Dongmyeong in a stern voice, ‘you do need to talk to him. You can’t pretend this hasn’t happened. For your own sake, you need to figure out where the two of you stand, and for his? If Hwanwoong is confused, then he’s going to need someone to talk to who understands. You need to be brave for him and help him through the questions that he has, and coming to terms with who he is. Whether it’s as his friend or his brother or something else.’

‘I’m tired of being brave,’ whispers Dongju. ‘You were always better at it than me.’

They both look up and around as something clunks, and Dongju jumps when he sees Yonghoon in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. He appears to have placed his cup down on the counter with a clang to announce his presence. ‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘I didn’t want to interrupt but I _really_ need coffee.’

‘What did you hear?’ Dongju asks in an anxious voice, forgetting to be polite. Panic rises up his chest at the thought that he has revealed Hwanwoong’s most private secret.

‘Nothing,’ answers Yonghoon quickly, but he looks uncomfortable. ‘Not that I would tell anyone anything if I _had_ heard something. Hypothetically.’ His gentle eyes crinkle at the corners in a guilty smile.

Dongju lets out a moan and buries his face in his hands again. With a fond sigh Dongmyeong wraps an arm around his shoulders and Yonghoon crosses over to squeeze his shoulder too.

‘Everything is so _hard_ ,’ whines Dongju. ‘I want to go back to a few weeks ago when everything was easy.’

‘Hey,’ Yonghoon taps his arm and shakes his head, ‘the longest journeys have the most beautiful destinations.’ 

If the beautiful destination is Hwanwoong, then Dongju thinks that he’ll stay on this road forever.

~

Between recording their next music show, practising for hours in the dance studio, filming for variety and filling every gap in time with interviews for online videos, Hwanwoong has done a good job of avoiding a conversation with Dongju. Whenever they are not working, he is sleeping, and everyone knows better than to try to disturb him when he is sleeping. On a weary Friday, in which a blizzard most out of the ordinary for Seoul has forced the schedule to be cancelled for the day, Hwanwoong huddles up in a small conference room away from the dance studio during their half-hour break and yawns widely.

The room is dimly lit, the strip lighting switched off, and the snow building up outside the window is casting the room into grey. Eight chairs are circled around the table, but Hwanwoong prays that he won’t be disturbed. His eyes drift shut and he hunches his legs up onto the leather chair and dreams of a successful nap. After a moment, though, the door slides open and he opens one eye a crack.

 _Dongju_.

‘Is it time to get back to practice already?’ says Hwanwoong quickly, letting his legs drop back down to the grey-blue carpet.

Dongju does not answer the question. ‘I’ve been looking for you. I feel like I’ve been looking for you for days, hyung.’

In a second, Hwanwoong’s fight or flight instinct is activated. With a gulp, he makes to stand up, but there is nothing that he can do when Dongju is crossing the room and pulling back one of the wheeled chairs for himself. Hwanwoong’s panicked eyes dart around the room for a way out. ‘We’ve been busy,’ he says nervously, ‘I’ve been tired. Really tired.’

‘We need to talk about what happened on the rooftop,’ whispers Dongju after a very deep breath.

_No no no._

Hwanwoong had hoped that Dongju might have had enough soju that he wouldn’t remember the kiss, or at the very least he might not remember the exact way that it had happened. Fear eats at his stomach and he feels a physical twinge of pain from the anxiety. Already, his palms turn clammy and his heartrate rises. When he opens and closes his mouth, no sound comes out.

‘You can talk to me,’ continues Dongju, ‘I’m here for you, hyung. We can talk about it. You know that I’ll understand.’

This is the moment that he has been dreading, but the moment that he has always known will come. Mouth dry, he turns his eyes down and fiddles anxiously with his hands. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you,’ he says in a small voice. It doesn’t sound like it belongs to him.

‘It’s okay,’ Dongju reaches out to take his hand but Hwanwoong pulls his hands away and tucks them into his hoodie pocket. ‘Hyung, it’s alright. It’s me, Dongju. You know… you know me. You know that it’s okay.’

‘When did you know?’ asks Hwanwoong.

The question makes Dongju pause, and it is clear in his eyes that he knows to what he is referring. ‘I… I’m not sure that there was a time when I didn’t know. Maybe when I was at high school? I don’t remember.’

As his suspicions are confirmed, Hwanwoong rubs his face with his hands and kneads his eyes with his palms until bright yellow and gold stars splash across his vision. Anxious fingers tug at his hair and his breath comes out shaky. ‘Then I don’t understand. I don’t understand why I’m feeling like this now. I’m not a teenager. I’ve never felt like this before. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.’ On the last words, his voice breaks, and hatred for his very being runs through his veins. As the older, he should be the one taking care of Dongju, but instead he is falling apart and the younger is full of a bravery and self-understanding that he can only dream of.

‘It’s not always like that,’ whispers Dongju. ‘Things are different for everyone. Look, I did my reading when I was coming to terms with who I am, hyung. Some people don’t fully understand the way their attraction works until they’re much, much older than us. We change and grow and learn and realise things about ourselves. There’s no way that it’s _supposed_ to go.’

‘But shouldn’t I have sensed something?’ he presses in earnest. His eyes look up to meet Dongju’s in a plea for answers.

‘I don’t know, hyung,’ he says. His forehead knits in worry, like it does sometimes when he scrunches up his face during a strange dream when they are in bed together. ‘Maybe there was a part of you inside that knew, but you didn’t pay attention to it yet. Maybe not.’

‘There were always guys,’ he starts, voice still crackly, ‘but they were guys that I looked up to, that I admired. I wanted to be like them, not date them. Or at least that’s what I thought.’

Dongju looks down at his lap. ‘Well I think it can feel like that, because from when we’re kids we’re told what society thinks is _normal_ , and we convince ourselves that we fit into that box, so our minds make up strategies to compartmentalise anything that deviates from what the outside world has told us to expect of ourselves.’

This is a conversation too intimate for a sterile conference room, but there is no putting this jack back into the box. ‘How are you so smart when you’re so young?’ he whispers. ‘Meanwhile I feel so _stupid_.’

The frown on his forehead deepening, Dongju reaches out and takes Hwanwoong’s hands from his hair before he can pull them away this time. ‘You’re not stupid, hyung. Talk to me. When did the feelings start?’

 _When we filmed the music video and I saw you poised like a beautiful, delicate cherry blossom tree in amongst the landscape_ , he thinks. ‘A few months ago,’ he says.

Dongju’s throat bobs as he swallows, and Hwanwoong knows before he speaks that he’s going to ask him something important. ‘I’ll support you every day, Hwanwoong. I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. But I have to know… What happened on the roof, was it about you? Or about you and me? Because it’s okay if you were just… figuring things out, about yourself, but I need to know. Like I need to know where I stand.’ At the end, his words begin to stumble over one another, like he’s rushing to get them out before he can stop himself.

Confessing out of the blue would be the hardest thing in the world, but responding to a question ought to be easier. Still, though, Hwanwoong’s throat constricts. Can he tell Dongju that he stopped looking at him like a brother all those months ago? Can he confess such a thing in the cold light of day, under his attentive gaze? Never before has he noticed how incisive Dongju can be; he does not hover around questions or avoid getting to the point.

‘I think it’s about you and me,’ he says.

Dongju exhales slowly and nods. There is a flicker of sparks across his eyes that Hwanwoong doesn’t miss, and the muscles of his face twitch. ‘I guess that it has been since the kiss. On the stage, I mean.’

‘I think it’s been about you and me for longer than that,’ whispers Hwanwoong. A weight seems to have been lifted from his shoulders, and even though his heart is thudding his chest starts to feel lighter. In the past, when other things have gotten too much for him, he has always confided in the older members, rather than Dongju, but now that he sits across from him, he realises that Dongju has an open heart stretched out like arms for an embrace.

They have been in this room for too long, but no one has come to find them yet.

As soon as Hwanwoong remembers that there is world outside the door, and people other than the two of them existing in it, the hand grips back around his windpipe and he has to close his eyes to live in the fantasy for a moment longer.

~

‘He’s in a good mood,’ remarks Seoho, as the two of them watch Hwanwoong bustle around the dorm.

Dongju nods, and he cannot help the lovesick sort of smile that spills over his face.

The Hwanwoong of the last couple of weeks – tired, moody, detached – has been replaced by a new one. He washes up the dishes quite happily (most out of the ordinary) and lines up all of the drinks in the refrigerator according to colour order until they make a perfect rainbow. As he moves from room to room, he smiles to himself and collects up anything that the members have left lying about before returning them to their rightful homes. He makes a cup of coffee and takes it to Youngjo’s bedroom, where he is working on new beats already.

Seoho and Dongju are midway through a game, but their eyes keep drifting to him, Dongju’s even more than usual. At one point, Hwanwoong throws himself down onto the couch and starts to take selfies, pouting at his phone camera even though he is not wearing make-up and the lighting in the room is not ideal. Watching him move like he’s weightless fills Dongju’s tummy with butterflies, even though he knows that Hwanwoong has a long road ahead of him. Even though he knows that they both do, and that it won’t always be easy.

 _Long journeys have beautiful destinations_.

Today, Hwanwoong deserves to feel at peace. A few hours of happiness are the least that he deserves. He’s earned this.

Casting his eyes back to the game, Dongju tries to concentrate. It is strange to think that not too long ago, whenever he was crammed onto this couch with the other members, he was wrapped up in his own secrets. Now his truth is a beaming light in the dorm, and Hwanwoong has begun to unravel too, like a flower opening up to the sun after a very long night. With every petal that unfurls, he looks even prettier.

The video-game that they’re playing tonight requires intensive teamwork and strategy to figure out the path ahead, but Dongju is too distracted to make any real headway. Hoping that Seoho will just think that it’s the chaos of the comeback and everything else which clouds his brain, he forces his eyes onto the bright ever-changing colours of the screen and tries to pretend that Hwanwoong isn’t less than two metres away, sprawled over the couch.

He supposes, now, that it’s okay to stare at him, without the fear of catching his eye. Maybe Hwanwoong would even like it.

Still, though, when Seoho is sat right beside him he feels he ought to keep a hold on himself.

Later… he can look at Hwanwoong all he wants later.

Later feels like a lifetime away.

However the evening starts to roll by the steady pace, and before long Youngjo is reminding everyone to go to bed because they have to be awake at dawn to drive to their next schedule. The members scroll through their shower rota, and when Hwanwoong emerges from the bathroom he smells of flowers and marshmallow shampoo. He’s wrapped up in buttonless jersey pyjamas patterned with puppies, and his face is pink from the shower.

Dongju is already waiting on Hwanwoong’s bed, with his feet tucked up on the mattress, and he gives him a small smile when he walks into the bedroom. ‘Can I sleep in with you tonight?’

‘Of course,’ exhales Hwanwoong, and there’s a slight tremor in his breath.

Keonhee has not come back from his shower yet, so when Hwanwoong lifts up the blankets and crawls to the far side of the bed against the wall, there is a minute in which they are completely alone together. As they do so often, Dongju wraps his arms around him and closes his eyes as he thinks how it is to hold Hwanwoong. In his mind it’s like holding a baby tiger cub to his chest, especially when he wriggles and fidgets during the night.

Dongju wonders if he’ll ever learn to sleep without him ever again.

‘Where do we start?’ whispers Hwanwoong into the quiet room. His voice bounces back off the wall and Dongju keeps his eyes closed as he contemplates the words.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I told you that it was about you and me. What’s it about to you? Why did that kiss happen on that stage?’

Dongju swallows. A part of him wishes that they wouldn’t have this conversation now, and that they would instead hold each other and just give in to silence. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I...’ Even after Hwanwoong’s confession, he is too afraid to share the truth aloud. _What would Dongmyeong do_? he thinks to himself, because his brother has always been the brave one. ‘The truth is hyung that I used to have feelings for you a long time ago.’

‘Used to?’ whispers Hwanwoong and he cannot seem to conceal the fear in his voice.

‘It’s complicated. You can imagine how complicated. I was practically a kid when I joined the company and I saw you and you were so perfect. I wanted to be like you and I wanted you. But I was young and you were always talking about girls and I knew I never stood a chance with someone like you. So I didn’t think about it for a long time. I guess I convinced myself that I didn’t feel that way anymore.’

Hwanwoong shifts and pulls Dongju’s hands up around his chest so that he can interlink their fingers in front of him. ‘Why wouldn’t you stand a chance with someone like me?’ His voice sounds hurt.

‘You’re… you. And I’m me.’

‘What does that _mean_?’ Hwanwoong presses, his thumb stroking over Dongju’s hands as he starts to get his words out quicker.

‘Don’t make me say it,’ Dongju whispers, ‘it’s humiliating.’

At that, Hwanwoong wriggles around in his arms and meets his gaze. Their noses are less than two inches apart, and Dongju feels unsettled by the ever-penetrating look in his eyes. ‘You’re brilliant, Dongju,’ he says, ‘and beautiful.’

Dongju swallows, for once in his life wishing that their faces were not so close together, because his cheeks are burning and he’s sure that Hwanwoong will be able to feel the heat. ‘Then the kiss happened,’ he says, in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation back under his control, ‘and the truth is I’m not sure that I’d ever stopped - ’ Abruptly he halts, before the words slip out: _loving you_. ‘I’d buried it deep inside but the truth is it was always there. Maybe that’s why the kiss happened. And if it is then I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry that I exposed you and us in front of all of those people.’

Hwanwoong shakes his head and to Dongju’s relief, turns back away again. ‘I don’t regret it. If it hadn’t have happened then I probably would never have let that part of myself speak to anyone other than my conscience. I might’ve lived my whole life confused and angry at myself. At least now I have someone I can talk to.’

As he inhales the scent of shampoo on the back of his neck, Dongju wishes that he could kiss him. Not a kiss like the first, or the second, but a gentle kiss touched to the vulnerable knot at the top of his spine. He thinks of all the things that they could do if they were lovers: they could hold each other like this but bare skinned, taking in each other’s warmth, and they could whisper little words to each other in the night when no one else can hear. _It’s too soon_ , he reminds himself, and instead he sighs over the exposed skin at the nape of Hwanwoong’s neck and pulls him back against his chest. ‘You can talk to me whenever you need, hyung, about anything.’

‘Where does this leave us?’ asks Hwanwoong, speaking to the wall.

‘I don’t know,’ he answers in total honesty. Just when he summons up to the courage to say something else, the door opens and Keonhee shuffles in, with an awkward expression as though he has just walked in on two lovers embracing.

Fresh-faced from the shower, he gives a wave when Dongju releases Hwanwoong and rolls onto his other side.

‘Hey,’ he murmurs.

Keonhee nods to Hwanwoong and raises his eyebrows, in a question of whether or not he’s sleeping.

‘You’re awake, aren’t you Hwanwoong?’ says Dongju so that he can be the one to answer, and Hwanwoong gives a grunt of confirmation before grabbing all of the blankets and pulling them over himself.

Keonhee gives another nod, and then raises his eyebrows twice in a waggle that makes Dongju narrow his eyes. There’s another message being conveyed, but he cannot figure it out, and when he frowns Keonhee throws his hands up into the air and sighs at his total lack of comprehension as he flops down onto his own bed.

~

Although the stage feels like home, it would be a lie to say that Hwanwoong isn’t relieved when promotions start to come to a close. There is still work to be done, but the thought of not leaving the dorm at dawn each day, of not filming during the night, of not facing the scrutiny of interview after interview, is invigorating.

In the final week of promotions, there are highs and lows. On their second to last day, they achieve their third win. During their first fansign for the era, one fan bypasses Hwanwoong at the signing table, and when he glances down the line, she walks past Dongju too. The group are assigned a new manager to replace Manager Jeong, and he has a friendly smile and approachable demeanour. On one rainy day when the pretty white snow washes away and leaves the city grey, a journalist runs an article claiming that Hwanwoong is in a relationship with a male trainee from another company.

Between the highs _and_ the lows, Hwanwoong is relieved to collapse into his bed on a Saturday free of schedules, and plant his face squarely into the pillow.

There are plans for the group to go out for dinner later with their managers and their brother group, but the thought of socialising again makes Hwanwoong moan into the pillow. His batteries are drained of energy and he needs time to recharge. That’s the way that he is with presenting himself socially, and he has been that way for as long as he can remember. People think that he is loud and confident, and it’s true – he’s not shy like Dongju or quiet like Youngjo – but it also saps his energy. By the end of the day he needs time alone or time in bed to refill his empty engines.

Furthermore, next week he is supposed to go out for lunch with his parents, and that makes him nervous. It will be the first time that he has seen them in person since the very start of the promotions, and that means face-to-face conversations that he has not rehearsed enough times in his head to be comfortable with. One thousand times, apparently, is not enough. Telling them that he likes boys as well as girls is one thing, but telling them that he has feelings for Dongju – yes, _maknae_ of the group Dongju – is a whole other ballgame.

He knows exactly what his mom will say: that it’s okay, that it’s beautiful, and that everything will work out fine. He also knows exactly what his dad will say: that it’s risky, and that he should forget all about this and concentrate on his career because this could jeopardise everything that he’s worked for.

Sighing into his pillow, a small smile drifts onto his face as he realises that the pillow smells of Dongju. Like it’s their bed. These days, it might as well be.

‘Knock knock,’ says Dongju, and when Hwanwoong looks up he’s carrying a packet of snacks and drinks. He drops them down onto Hwanwoong’s bed and gives him his soft, half-upturned smile. ‘Seoho and Keonhee and Geonhak went out to get lunch.’

‘Where’s Youngjo?’

‘Working in his bedroom.’

A nervous thrill erupts like butterflies breaking free of a wiry gold cage in Hwanwoong’s navel at the thought of the two of them being left alone. _What does it mean_? They have talked but not about where they truly stand with each other. Was that second kiss the beginning of something? ‘So it’s just the two of us?’ he says quietly, hoping that it will prompt a response from Dongju that will make sense of their situation.

‘I guess so,’ he answers. His weight bobs from one foot to the other, and it’s obvious that he’s nervous.

Ever since that day in the CEO’s office, when Hwanwoong watched him do the bravest thing that he’d ever seen, he has been desperate to do something in return. Deep in his chest is a need to impress Dongju, and prove that he can be courageous too. Now, with the two of them alone and a day stretching ahead of them without work to disturb the peace, there is a chance. After taking a deep breath, he crosses his legs and looks up at Dongju. ‘Dongju, is it… is it okay if I kiss you again?’

It is oddly satisfying to watch the way that Dongju’s jaw drops, and he looks young once again. A nervous sound akin to a squeak breaks from his throat, and Hwanwoong can’t help but think that neither of them are built for this. Then, though, he nods, and Hwanwoong’s heart does a backflip in his chest.

Closing the bedroom door firmly, Dongju crosses over the bed and slides down beside him. The snacks and drinks tumble over each other when the mattress sinks, but neither of them look down because their eyes have caught. Dongju’s are wide and full of anticipation and it brings a little courage to Hwanwoong’s veins to think that Dongju _wants_ him. He lifts one hand and cups Dongju’s cheek gently, trying to recall the art of kissing.

This third kiss cannot be like the last two, rushed and full of confusion. He owes him a proper kiss that is befitting of their journey together.

When he leans in, Dongju’s eyes fall closed, and Hwanwoong has a second just to see him gripped in expectation, and then he touches his lips against his. This time, he focuses on every sensation. His fingertips graze Dongju’s pointed cheekbone and trace a line down his jaw as he parts his lips a little. There is space for air between them, breath that blurs together so that their circles become one. Then, Hwanwoong kisses him harder with a hand at the side of his neck and Dongju’s head tilts back slightly. For the first time, nothing feels confused.

In fact, Hwanwoong’s head feels clearer than ever before.

Clarity drifts over him like the summer breeze that he’s almost forgotten in the midst of the long, cold winter.

He touches his tongue to Dongju’s, and nothing has ever felt more natural. As if making up for lost time, Dongju pushes back against him and closes his hands on the front of his black tee to hold him against him. Like he’ll never let him go. Hwanwoong doesn’t want him too. His hand drifts back to knot in Dongju’s hair and for a second the kiss is wet in urgency before he has to break away because he remembers breathing.

Hot air fills the small gap between them and their foreheads rest together.

‘I really only came in to bring snacks,’ whispers Dongju.

‘Consider it a date,’ says Hwanwoong back, before clapping a metaphorical hand over his mouth. Why that word makes it any different, he does not know, but for some reason it does and suddenly he feels nervous again.

Dongju sits back and lifts on foot onto the bed so that he can rest his chin on his knee. ‘Is that what you want? Do you want us to… date?’

Throat dry, Hwanwoong swallows. ‘I don’t know. I mean we can’t. We can’t date. We can’t go out together anywhere and even our bedroom we share with Keonhee. I don’t even know what dating would look like.’

‘But it’s not just kissing,’ says Dongju carefully.

‘No, I don’t think it’s just kissing.’

‘If it’s going to be something else - ’ Dongju pauses and Hwanwoong notices the way that his throat bobs as he gulps. ‘If it’s going to be something else then I think we need to discuss it with the other members. It could affect all of us. Not just because of the media but because it could change the whole dynamic of the team.’

Hwanwoong nods, even though he does not want to entertain those thoughts.

_What if this changes things?_

_What if the others don’t like it?_

_What will happen if you break up?_

The ifs and maybes are shoved to the back of Hwanwoong’s brain because for the first time in a long time, he feels free. ‘I know,’ he sighs, and his eyes stray to the Mickey Mouse on Dongju’s t-shirt. ‘But I’m scared.’

‘You know they’re going to embrace you? Just like they did with me?’ whispers Dongju gently.

‘I know.’ Why the thought of the members knowing the truth feels so scary to him, when the entire world saw him and Dongju kiss on stage, he does not know. But voicing it aloud to anyone other than Dongju is still a step that might as well be off the edge of a cliff-face for the fear it strikes in his heart. ‘I do know that.’

After a moment of what must be consideration, Dongju leans close and presses a soft kiss to his temple. Tingles spread from the point of contact all across Hwanwoong’s skin and he almost shivers.

‘We can do it together,’ promises Dongju, ‘when you’re ready.’

Hwanwoong nods and picks up one of the packets of candy just to busy his hands. Now that promotions are over, he intends to eat as much as he can handle, the fear of a puffy face in the morning now condemned to the past. He picks out one sweet and unravels the plastic wrapping before popping it into his mouth and looking back up to meet Dongju’s eyes again. Automatically, like his eyes guide him that way, he takes out another candy and holds it up for Dongju to take between his teeth.

When it is in his mouth, Dongju slides it into one cheek, and then starts to laugh when he sees the way that Hwanwoong is looking at him. One cheek bulging, a dazzling smile breaks across his face and the gums above his teeth show. Those are the smiles that Hwanwoong knows are real.

He laughs too, and honest expressions feel so much better on his face than fake smiles and hidden truths.

~

The barbecue place that they visit for dinner is thriving with energy in the early evening. Outside there are tables covered by red and gold canopies, and the scent of cooking and coal spreads out like street-food. Inside, Hwanwoong has to push through with Dongju and Youngjo to get to the host’s desk, where they are shown the way to a private room that the managers have booked for them.

The grills are sparkling silver and there are already some bowls laid out ready to start cooking. Dark wood benches line either side of the table, while golden banners are strung from the ceiling. They hang so low that they give the impression of being in a tent. A sliding door provides privacy but there is already a server in the room unloading drinks for the other members who have already arrived. Both groups mix in together around the table, and Hwanwoong sits down beside Dongju who has slid down alongside his brother.

‘Did you have a fun day?’ asks Keonhee, and his eyes flicker to Dongju too.

The look makes Hwanwoong uneasy, and a suspicion begins to creep into his mind that it may not have been an accident that the two of them were left alone together. ‘It was good,’ he says, certainly not mentioning that he and Dongju had spent much of it kissing. From a crystal jug patterned with diamond-like flowers he pours himself some water, and then when he sees that Dongju’s glass is empty he pours some for him too and nudges it along the table.

Yonghoon and Youngjo start to arrange the bowls and utensils and ask everyone what varieties of meats and dishes they want to order. Hwanwoong, who is content with anything, just listens and hums along in occasional agreement. The friendly server jots down their requests, and at one point glances up to meet Hwanwoong’s eye. She’s very pretty, dressed in a red dress with floral trim, and she gives him a sweet smile. He smiles back politely, and then looks down because they have always been discouraged from talking to strangers when they are out and about.

When he glances left, Keonhee’s eyes are still on him, narrowed.

‘I think that we should have a toast,’ announces Manager Byun, ‘before we leave you alone to eat.’

Hwanwoong’s heart jumps at the thought that the groups will be able to eat together without the managers watching them. By virtue of the profession, he is so used to being observed all the time, so much so that often the managers and the staff fade into the background of his mind like an ever-present but inoffensive shadow. Nonetheless, though, it is nice for them to have some time alone.

Hwanwoong lifts his glass, determined to stick to water because since the rooftop kiss he does not entirely trust himself with soju.

‘Congratulations,’ says Manager Byun, ‘on the two wins for the comeback.’

‘And let’s anticipate the upcoming album of Onewe,’ adds Manager Kim, the newest addition to their team.

Youngjo speaks too, and there is pride in his eyes. ‘Everyone has worked really hard over the last few weeks. I think that this year is going to be a year of change and success for both groups. I hope we can enjoy tonight together because it is not so often that we are all able to come out to eat as one.’

They clink their glasses to that, and Hwanwoong sips on the water as he thinks back to the comeback. Ecstatic highs and horrible lows. He thinks about the euphoric moment when they achieved their second win after everything, and then he thinks of shaking, curled up on a bathroom floor while Youngjo held him as he vomited. He thinks of how he fled the rooftop after kissing Dongju, and then he thinks of how they spent today, together on his bed with little kisses and shared candies.

With a twist of his gut he remembers the fear that all of this would be lost, that he would be kicked out and lose his family forever. When he was growing up in his two-roomed flat, most of his time was spent alone studying because his parents were always out working and he did not have brothers or sisters. Although he was quite popular at school, he never brought friends home because there was just not space to play with them and he worried that they’d laugh at him.

Whenever people ask him whether it is difficult living in a dorm with the other boys, he cannot imagine how it could be. It’s easy, like being surrounded by love and fun every second of the day. Even when they wake him up early in the morning or when he can hear any of them arguing, it feels like having his family around him.

It all could have been lost.

‘Okay, Hwanwoongie?’ asks Seoho, noticing that he is in a daze.

‘Mm,’ he nods and looks down. ‘Just thinking how relieved I am for promotions to be over.’

Seoho nods and reaches across the table to give his hand a small squeeze. ‘I don’t think the rest of us can imagine how hard it’s been for you and Dongju,’ he says. ‘The way that you’ve both had the strength to get through is admirable. We’re all proud of you. Our two babies,’ he adds with a teasing smile.

As Seoho looks at him with such love in his eyes, Hwanwoong thinks that it would not be so terrifying to tell them the truth. Even if they don’t admit it, he’s sure that they must already suspect. They might have suspected before he even suspected it of himself. He’s sure that they must wonder: how could someone possibly kiss someone else by accident? Kiss their own groupmate in front of everyone? In retrospect, Hwanwoong doesn’t believe it himself.

Knowing how he feels about Dongju now, how perhaps he always felt, he probably wouldn’t believe that it was an accident either if the situation were presented in front of him.

‘Woong?’ Seoho snaps him from his thoughts again.

‘Thank you,’ he says, ‘for everything. For supporting us.’

The other members are sharing drinks with the managers and laughing, but Hwanwoong crosses his hands in his lap and shares a moment just with his thoughts. Would it be easier, just to tell everyone the truth now? His family?

When the food arrives, the managers bid them farewell to go and find their own table out in the main restaurant, and once the sliding door is closed there is a sense of privacy rare in the world they operate in. No music plays from the speakers hidden away in the corners so Hwanwoong can bathe in the happy voices of his friends, content to listen. Dongju and Dongmyeong are grappling over something and Dongju’s leg keeps bumping against Hwanwoong’s thigh.

He looks down and smiles again.

Youngjo piles up Hwanwoong’s plate high with meats and pushes different bowls towards him, bustling like his big brother as always. He’s always the first to check that he has eaten, and has become even more overprotective since the kiss. Hyungu passes down a dish of salad and Hwanwoong picks at some leaves to occupy his hands. After a moment just listening to the other’s conversations, he catches Giwook’s eye from directly opposite.

‘How are you feeling, Hwanwoong-hyung?’ he asks. 

‘Okay,’ he says with a smile that he conjures up slightly too late. He’s not someone with a _resting_ smile, so when he gets lost in his thoughts it takes a second to compose his expression again. ‘Tired. I’m looking forward to sleeping a lot for the next few days.’

‘How are you handling the media? Are you using your social media?’

Giwook has gentle eyes and Hwanwoong has always found him easy to talk to. He knows that Dongju confides in him about a lot because of their closeness in age, and he talks most highly of him. At the moment Giwook’s hair is a soft purple that has faded to grey and falls like feathers over and around his eyes and neck. He’s dressed in a plain black tee but somehow he makes it look like a catwalk design, because clothes fit his frame like a skin designed just for him.

‘They keep telling me not to go on social media,’ Hwanwoong laughs softly. ‘Sometimes I still look. I can’t help it. Sometimes in the middle of the night I have to check my phone because I’ve developed this fear that everyone is talking about me. All the time. It’s been hard.’

Giwook nods. ‘And how are you feeling? About what happened?’

If he is referring to the kiss, then Hwanwoong’s chest jumps and his heart seems to jolt against his chest. ‘Fine. Everything’s fine.’

‘I know that you have all of your team to talk to but if you ever want to get away then you can come to our dorm too. You can talk to us, to me. I promise that I’m easy to talk to.’

‘Thank you, Giwook,’ he says, just as Dongju wins a fight with his brother by the side and pings back against Hwanwoong’s side. ‘Woah!’ he catches him as Dongju sprawls on the bench, and his hands are protective when they grip his upper arms. He can feel the soft start of muscles under his baggy white tee, and his fingers squeeze ever so slightly before he realises that everyone has turned to look at him, so he lets him go and clears his throat. ‘I’m just going to run to the bathroom,’ he says before edging out from the bench and opening the sliding door before anyone can stop him.

Being with Dongju around other people is harder than he expected. Constantly, he is worrying about the way that the others are looking at them. He can’t help but fear that they will figure out the truth before he can tell them, and then they’ll all think that he was lying to them. Keeping secrets.

There is one other person already in the public bathroom, so he keeps his head down as the door swings open and goes straight to the sink to splash some water on his face. It is ice cold, the pipes frozen from the never-ending winter, and when he looks up into the mirror his cheeks turn red then pale. The other man leaves without sparing him a glance, and Hwanwoong thanks the stars for the relative anonymity that his make-up free face and oversized hoodie affords him. When the door swings open again, he looks up and sees Dongju slip inside.

‘Are you okay?’ he whispers.

‘Yeah, yeah I’m fine,’ he wipes some of the water from his forehead and blinks the droplets from his lashes in case Dongju thinks he’s been crying. ‘Just thinking.’

Dongju crosses the bathroom and settles his hands down on Hwanwoong’s hips. Hwanwoong’s worried eyes flick to the door but it does not open. ‘Thinking about what?’

‘I feel like I’m keeping a secret from them. Like lying.’

Dongju cups his cheek and slides his other hand up to his waist. Every spot that he touches feels static, like electricity connects the two of them and starts to sputter if they dare to pull apart. ‘This is a part of you that belongs entirely to you, Hwanwoong. You’re not obligated to share it with anyone at all. And you already shared it with me, so that’s something.’

‘It’s my baby bird,’ Hwanwoong mumbles.

‘What?’ laughs Dongju with a sound of disbelief.

‘You have to nurture a baby bird before you set it free. Yours already flew but mine doesn’t have all its feathers yet.’

Even though they are in a public bathroom and the door could open at any second, Dongju leans forward and pecks a tiny kiss to his lips, and Hwanwoong doesn’t stop him. ‘You’re cute, hyung,’ he whispers, and fireworks explode in Hwanwoong’s chest so quickly that he forgets how to breathe.

‘Stop it, you,’ he says with a shaky voice and he pushes Dongju in the chest to nudge him away. A broad grin overtakes Dongju’s features and Hwanwoong has to look back at the mirror over the basins because otherwise he’ll start to laugh too, and he cannot possibly give him the satisfaction.

~

Every time that they steal a kiss, Dongju cannot believe that this has happened. Sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he thinks that everything must have been a dream, because Hwanwoong – _Yeo Hwanwoong_ – who he walked in on that first day at the company, cannot possibly be into him. Still, however, he wakes up in the morning in Hwanwoong’s bed – their bed – and if Keonhee is sleeping them he’ll press a little kiss to his forehead and Hwanwoong won’t stop him.

Strangely, the days in which they do nothing seem to race by faster than the rammed schedules of the promotions. During the first week, the most work that they do is a couple of interviews, and a live stream every night from different members, and yet it races by in the blink of an eye. In the second week, they return to the practice room and preparing a stage for an upcoming award show, and Youngjo starts visiting the recording studio again to work on music, but still there are minute-long hours that disappear into nothingness when they’re just chilling out in the dorm.

Today, he’s sure, will fade just like the others.

He takes advantage of these early minutes, reminding himself of the events of the last few weeks and the fact that Hwanwoong lets him kiss him. When he closes his eyes, he slips into daydreams about how they could spend their day off if they were someone else.

They could go on a date.

They could walk together along the Han River.

He could buy gongcha for Hwanwoong because usually Hwanwoong pays as the older but if they were boyfriends then Dongju could buy things for him too. Usually he’s happy to let the others spoil him, but oddly since the kissing started he’s felt the urge to spend all of his savings on pretty things for Hwanwoong. Things he can eat, wear, covet and treasure.

 _Boyfriends_.

Imagining a day when he could introduce Hwanwoong as his boyfriend makes a dopey smile illuminate his face. They haven’t even discussed that word, though. They haven’t come close to it. So he tempers his expectations and opens his eyes to remind him that the reality in front of him is already good enough for now.

‘Hwanwoong, are you awake?’

‘Mm,’ sighs Hwanwoong. He gets irritable when someone tries to wake him up early on his days off. If the others don’t rouse him, then he’ll easily sleep in until midday or further.

‘I want to go on a date,’ whispers Dongju.

Hwanwoong rolls over. His hair is a mess from sleep and sticks up in all directions, and there is fairy dust in the corners of his eyes. ‘What?’ he mumbles groggily.

‘I want us to go on a date.’

‘We can’t,’ says Hwanwoong, and he yanks out the pillow from under Dongju’s head to cover his own face as he turns back onto his side.

‘What if we wrapped up in lots of clothes? And masks. It’s winter, no one will be able to discern us from shapeless blobs. I just want to go on a walk. We don’t have to hold hands or anything. I just wish we could go somewhere together that isn’t this dorm. I’m getting cabin fever.’ He hopes that this suggestion will appeal to Hwanwoong because he knows that living in such an enclosed space bothers him. It doesn’t trigger his claustrophobia as such, but he often mentions the way that it nags him and sets his teeth on edge.

Hwanwoong makes a non-committal sound.

‘W-would it be too much for you?’ says Dongju, remembering that Hwanwoong isn’t ready to let his baby bird out yet.

‘Do you really want to go?’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ Dongju backtracks. Now he feels guilty.

‘If you want to go on a date then we’ll go on a date,’ he says, and Dongju hears him yawn. ‘But you have to let me sleep now.’

Dongju beams in triumph before sliding out of the bed and leaving Hwanwoong in peace. A first date is one step closer to boyfriends.

Out in the kitchen, he finds Keonhee, who slides him the coffee he’s just made without question and begins brewing another. ‘Morning.’

‘Morning,’ says Dongju back, a little nervously because there’s an unreadable intent in Keonhee’s voice.

‘You slept in Hwanwoong’s bed again last night,’ remarks Keonhee casually.

‘Yeah.’

‘I can’t remember the last time you slept in your own bed.’

Dongju sips the bitter coffee. Keonhee never adds sugar. The cup is a mug that he bought from the Disney Store on their travels, and he wants to chastise Keonhee for planning to use it for himself, but he bites his tongue. ‘You know I like having something to cuddle.’

‘It’s not you who’s making me suspicious,’ says Keonhee, like he can’t hold back his intentions any longer. ‘It’s him. I mean this is Hwanwoong – he doesn’t mind a snuggle but he likes his own space too. And he hasn’t kicked you out of bed yet?’

Dongju gulps and tilts his chin up. ‘It’s been a difficult time. Maybe he needed some cuddles too to help him sleep.’

‘What’s going on between the two of you?’ whispers Keonhee, and there’s a desperate plea in his eyes for information. ‘I share a room with you. We’re a team. I want to be able to be there for you guys and I can’t be there if I don’t know anything.’

Panicking, Dongju drinks a gulp of coffee just for something to do. It is so hot that it sears his throat and he almost splutters. ‘Keonhee I can’t - ’

‘Talk to me, please,’ he says softly.

‘Let’s just enjoy this time off,’ says Dongju, knowing full well that there’s no point feigning ignorance when Keonhee’s mind is made up and it is made up in the _right direction_. He can hardly deny it. ‘Things were really rough during the comeback, especially for Hwanwoong. He needs some space. He’s answered enough questions, and so have I.’

‘Dongju, I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was demanding something - ’ says Keonhee with worried eyes.

Dongju understands. He sympathises with Keonhee, but he has to concentrate on supporting Hwanwoong now. No one else can understand the position he is in apart from Dongju. They can’t understand the anxiety and the fear and the reason why coming out is still terrifying even when you know that the people close to you will accept you. Even if everyone else in the dorm knows what is going on, it still isn’t their business until the moment that Hwanwoong decides to tell them himself. Only he has the right to make it their business.

‘We just really want to relax for a bit,’ he says. ‘Thank you for the coffee.’

Keonhee looks riddled with guilt but Dongju doesn’t know what to say to make him feel better. It’s like he’s caught on a tightrope between truth and discretion, and the cord is being shaken at either end. With nothing to hang onto, he feels like he’ll fall off soon unless something gives.

~

They take a taxi cab downtown, and winter is sparkling.

‘I was going to buy you bubble tea,’ says Dongju through chattering teeth, ‘but I think it’s too cold. We should get hot drinks.’

He cannot see Hwanwoong’s smile behind his mask, but he knows that it’s there because his eyes light up and the prominent crease beneath them forms.

The snow has been washed away over the last couple of weeks, but nonetheless the sidewalks shine with little pockets of ice that would be beautiful if they weren’t so dangerous. Overhead, stars spatter across the clear sky and the moon glows yellowish white. They decided on the late evening for their date, when the lighting will make it harder for people to identify them. The streetlamps shine almost as well as the moon, reminding Dongju of the Chronicles of Narnia. Although it played havoc with the schedules, a part of him wishes for the winter wonderland to return.

‘Let’s get hot cocoas,’ says Hwanwoong, and his voice is shaking a little from the cold too. He’s wrapped up from head to toe in a huge black puffer coat, and a fluffy hat is pulled down over his ears. A scarf that Dongju knows his mom knitted for him is wrapped under the collar of his coat.

With this last icy cold spell dragging on a few more days, Dongju is sure that spring will come soon. Like the tail end of a storm whipping back to lash at them, it promises quieter skies one day in the future.

They pick up drinks from a winter street stall, Dongju asking for no whipped cream on Hwanwoong’s because he knows he doesn’t like it. In the distance, buskers are playing light, bright music and Dongju recalls when they first performed on the street. He’d been so nervous but Hwanwoong had squeezed his hands and promised that they would prove themselves to everyone.

‘It’s going to be cold by the river,’ says Hwanwoong, pulling down his mask to touch his lips to the steaming drink.

‘We don’t have to go,’ Dongju says quickly, ‘it was only an idea. Sometimes I daydream aloud.’

‘If we going to go on dates then it’s my job to make you daydreams come true.’ As he says it, he winks, and it’s the first time that Dongju has seen Hwanwoong be flirtatious with him, about them. If it indicates that he’s settling into a more comfortable state about the relationship between them then that makes Dongju’s heart swell. Every step is a baby step. There was a time just after the first kiss when he almost forgot what it looked like to see Hwanwoong smile.

They walk together to the river and the romantic embankment, staged for lovers with fairy-lights wound around the trees.

‘Are you nervous?’ Dongju asks, referring to Hwanwoong’s ever present fear these days that cameras are hidden behind every corner.

Hwanwoong, though, misunderstands, and Dongju is not going to correct him when he hears what he says. ‘I’d be lying if I said that I don’t get butterflies in my tummy when we’re together,’ he says softly. With a sip of his drink, chocolate coats his upper lip and Dongju longs to kiss him and taste the sweetness. But he can’t. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ Hwanwoong adds with a little laugh that Dongju wants to bottle for longevity, ‘that I’ve known you for more than two years but now I feel like this when we’re together. Like I’m relearning all of my own feelings.’

‘What are you learning?’ whispers Dongju in a lowered voice when another couple passes them.

Hwanwoong’s eyes cast up to the stars. ‘I’m learning that I stumble over my words when you ask me questions, and my palms get sweaty when you look at me for too long. I’m learning that I have to train myself just to keep my eyes off you because they’re drawn like magnets when we’re together. I’m learning that my heart beats faster when you laugh and my head feels fuzzy whenever you’re talking, like I’m tuning into your radio and everything else in the world becomes background noise.’

The response of Dongju’s body is just what he’s described. His heart pounds and his hands turn clammy in his gloves and his breath catches in his throat such that he feels he can barely breathe. ‘O-oh,’ is all that he can manage to utter.

Hwanwoong’s cheeks turn bright pink under the fairy-lights and he stares down at his chocolate. ‘Does that sound stupid?’

‘It doesn’t sound stupid at all.’

They walk shoulder to shoulder. Every time that they bump into each other, they bounce off as the two puffy coats collide, and they laugh as they flush. The embankment is busy even at the late hour, and they can almost blend in amongst the crowd. Sometimes, someone turns back to look at that, perhaps catching a glimpse of the coloured hair peeking out from under their hats, or the small idol-like faces that are so distinctive. No one stops and stares, though, and the low-light provides an anonymity that could become addictive.

The Han River courses alongside them, wide and ceaseless and never disturbed by minor obstacles. The human development around its banks seems insignificant by comparison, and while a bridge of glittery gold arches crosses the expanse up ahead, it looks more like it floats on air rather than breaks the water with its supports. Dongju wonders how it would be to charge on like the river, never seeing the same place twice, never looking back to what has passed and only watching the future for what is to come.

Hwanwoong leans over the barrier to look down at the water until half of his body hangs across the edge. Anxious, Dongju grabs him by the back of his coat and keeps a grip just in case. If Hwanwoong fell, then he would have to jump right after him, and he can imagine how cold the water is.

‘Are you worried?’ laughs Hwanwoong, looking over his shoulder at him with a grin.

‘Yes, idiot, don’t hang so far over the edge!’

‘Hey!’ Hwanwoong swats him as he turns back around. ‘Don’t call your hyung that! Just because we’re on a date, doesn’t mean I stop being older than you!’

Dongju glares at him and tugs him by the front of his puffy coat all the way back to the footpath. The whole way, Hwanwoong is snickering.

For a while after that, they walk in silence. It’s a comfortable silence, for they have shared a room for a very long time and silences become easier and easier. Dongju drains the last of his drink and takes both of their cups to the nearest recycling box before jogging back to Hwanwoong’s side. They pass a group of girls who are playing idol music on their speakers, and Hwanwoong pulls his mask up surreptitiously while he keeps his head down.

If only Dongju could put his arm around him and reassure him when he is nervous…

But that is the very thing that they are prohibited from doing.

A while further, their hands brush at their sides and Dongju can’t help but trace his fingers just a little along the back of Hwanwoong’s hand.

‘Do you want to hold my hand?’ whispers Hwanwoong.

‘More than anything.’

In an act of courage that makes Dongju’s heart hit his chest like a bird trying to break free, Hwanwoong interlinks their gloved fingers and squeezes his hand. Their difference in height makes Hwanwoong’s elbow crook ever so slightly and Dongju thanks the heavens for that small gift; if the angle were right, he would be able to stand on the balls of his feet and press a kiss to Hwanwoong’s forehead.

For now though, under the witness of the stars, holding his hand is enough.

‘We have to tell the other members,’ says Hwanwoong, a cold of mist forming in the cold air in front of him. ‘Before I fall any deeper for you.’

Dongju has been waiting for him to decide it for himself, but now relief settles on his chest. ‘I think so too.’ He gives Hwanwoong’s hand a squeeze back of reassurance.

‘I wish we could just keep walking and walking and never look back,’ says Hwanwoong, and Dongju knows that he is not the only one who fell in love with the course of the river.

~

It is a few days later when the moment arises.

Hwanwoong arrives home from a trip to the shop on the corner drenched with rain, but he is smiling. The downpour struck with no warning, and the streets of their quiet area of Seoul run with channels like streams, but the arrival of the heavy rain is a sign that winter is almost over. Outside, there is a humidity in the air and that promises spring, he finds that he’s hot under his heavy wool coat. As he disassembles his protective outer layer, he notices that all of the members are milling around the kitchen and living space. It’s rare to find them all in one place, especially when they don’t have packed schedules to revolve around.

He slicks back his wet hair and takes a slow breath as he spots Dongju messing around with Geonhak in the kitchen. Every time that he sees Dongju now, it feels like he’s the steady ground amongst the storm and it helps him keep his balance.

‘What did you get?’ grins Keonhee as he bounds by and grabs the sodden paper bag from Hwanwoong’s hands.

‘Just snacks,’ he answers, his eyes still on Dongju.

Leaving Keonhee to rifle through his purchases, he slides to the kitchen and waits until Geonhak has moved away to step up beside Dongju. It’s so hard not to put his hands on his hips or slide his arms around his waist. Instead, though, he stands by his side and watches as he slices up vegetables to put in lunch. ‘Hey,’ he whispers.

‘Hey,’ Dongju smiles. When he looks up there’s adoration in his eyes and Hwanwoong can’t believe that he looks at him like that, but it cannot be mistaken. His eyes go wide and they start to shine and a wide smile breaks across his face. Unmistakable. Did Dongju always look at him like this? Has he only just started noticing? It’s hard to remember.

‘Can you get everyone together?’ says Hwanwoong. He hopes that his voice doesn’t shake because he’s desperate to prove to Dongju that he can be brave too.

‘What for?’

‘I want… I want to tell everyone the truth,’ he whispers. As he says it, he allows his hand to touch at Dongju’s lower back. He’s dressed in pyjama pants and a soft white and black striped sweater. ‘Now.’

Dongju turns to look at him properly and gulps, but then he nods. ‘Okay.’

When he goes to collect the members, Hwanwoong hunches over the counter and closes his eyes. His fingers grasp the edge with a vice-grip, the knuckles bending up upon themselves, and just for a second he lets his head drop between his shoulders to inhale some shaky breaths without the weight of holding it up. Whatever dinner Dongju and Geonhak were working on will be delayed, now. Guilt is a familiar feeling these days, and it doesn’t rest so badly on his shoulders.

‘What’s going on?’ asks Youngjo when Hwanwoong shuffles into the room.

‘Yeah, why do I feel like we’re about to get a bombshell dropped?’ laughs Seoho from a squashy green bean-bag.

Hwanwoong slides down onto the couch beside Dongju and rests his hands on his own knees as he tries to find the courage to speak. He knows that Dongju is waiting for him to talk, afraid to breach his privacy by opening his mouth at all, but words are struggling to form in his throat. He glances at Dongju with a pleading expression in his eyes, and Dongju turns to the others.

‘Hwanwoong and I have something that we want to talk to you about,’ he says, and Hwanwoong realises once again how in awe of him he is. He’s so young, so bold, and he’s grown into his own skin like a phoenix developing its dazzling red and gold plumage. It’s like he falls for him all over again. As he watches him, Dongju turns with an expectant look and gives him a reassuring smile.

There’s a distant sound in Hwanwoong’s ears, a low throb. It could be his pulse, but it feels too slow for that when his heart is battering against his chest in desperation. Instead, the sound is more like someone squeezing his brain, over, and over, such that the pressure is building up with ever more dangerous virulence against his skull. His throat is raw, and he’s suddenly aware that he didn’t think to change his clothes so the rain-soaked shirt is sticking to his skin, and his hair is damp on his forehead. He clears his throat, but that makes it hurt more and he looks down at his hands on his knees. At some point, his fingers have clenched tighter.

He thinks of Dongju’s bravery in the CEO’s office, lets the image roll over him like a wave, and then looks up to the room. ‘Dongju and I have feelings for each other,’ he says, in a robotic voice because it’s the only way that he can keep himself under control. ‘We want to start seeing each other.’

The second that he breathes the words into life, Dongju slides one hand across and takes the hand on his knee. His palm is warm and safe and loosens Hwanwoong’s fingers to intertwine them with his. ‘We wanted to talk to you guys first,’ he says, taking the reins now that Hwanwoong has opened the stable doors, and it’s such a relief that Hwanwoong has to fight the urge to slump back on the couch.

A moment of silence occupies the room, and then –

‘Damn, guys, I thought you were going to tell us something terrible!’ announces Seoho, with a theatrical hand thrown over his heart.

The spell is broken, but Hwanwoong just grips Dongju’s hand tighter.

‘How long has this been going on?’ Geonhak murmurs in a gentle voice.

‘Not long,’ whispers Hwanwoong, finding his voice again. ‘It wasn’t – it wasn’t going on when the kiss happened.’ He feels that this is vital to point out, lest the members question if the two of them put all of their careers at risk for the sake of a fleeting moment in their relationship.

‘Hwanwoong…’ starts Youngjo, and of course it is him who directs the real question, even without words.

Hwanwoong looks down, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you all before. I wanted to say it when Dongju was honest in the office. But I was too afraid. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I lied.’

‘You didn’t lie about anything,’ says Dongju, and he lifts Hwanwoong’s hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to the skin. It is the first time that they’ve touched each other like this in the presence of others. ‘You don’t have to be sorry about anything.’

‘No, you don’t,’ says Seoho quickly, and it’s Keonhee who crosses the room to the couch and squashes in beside Hwanwoong and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

They say things, all of them, but the throb in Hwanwoong’s head has gotten louder and he longs to rub his eyes but Dongju’s still holding his hand. His stomach is turning over and over and there is no taking any of this back now. It’s like the kiss all over again, except this time he is revealing the most intimate part of himself, to the people who he cares about most.

‘We needed to check in with you guys,’ murmurs Dongju, ‘because we know that this will affect the entire team.’

‘Look, who am I to get in the way of young love?’ grins Seoho.

‘Seoho’s right,’ says Youngjo, ‘it’s not our business and we’re glad that you shared it with us but you don’t need to worry about the team right now. If the two of you have feelings for each other then what matters is _the two of you_.’

Everything happens around him. Hwanwoong has forgotten how to speak again. With his one free hand that he extricates from Keonhee’s half hug, he rubs his eyes one after the other and then kneads his forehead. ‘Are you okay?’ murmurs Dongju. ‘Hwanwoong?’

He nods and inhales sharply.

‘I’m going to make tea,’ says Geonhak, his go-to when something of great emotional upheaval has happened.

‘Hwanwoong?’ Dongju whispers again. ‘It’s alright. Do you want to go to the bedroom? Do you want to go outside for some air?’

He shakes his head, and then realising that there is no reason why he has to hold himself back anymore, he rests his temple down onto Dongju’s shoulder as he takes a deep breath and tries to keep his breathing steady. Dongju’s hand slides into his damp hair and he holds him there with a reassuring hushing sound that reminds Hwanwoong of his childhood.

~

‘Do you want me to leave the bedroom?’ asks Keonhee, in a deadly serious voice. ‘I could move in with Seoho and Geonhak.’

‘What? _No_ ,’ groans Dongju, and he throws himself back onto Hwanwoong’s bed. Hwanwoong is not here, as he has gone to the dance studio to work on a new cover _again_ , but by now Dongju has all but claimed the bed as his own.

‘I don’t want to… you know… disturb the two of you,’ grimaces Keonhee. ‘There’s no third-wheeling quite like being in the bed opposite when your two best friends are - ’

‘ _Stop_!’ moans Dongju before he can take that any further. ‘Please. We don’t want you to leave. Besides, Hwanwoong and I aren’t anywhere near… _that_ point yet.’

‘Oh,’ starts Keonhee, and his ears prick up at the sound of potential gossip. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Nope.’

‘Oh come on, my two boys are dating, I want to know everything,’ Keonhee whines. ‘I mean you guys are at least kissing right?’

‘Not listening!’ he says loudly, covering his head with the pillow, but Keonhee is nothing if not persistent, and he crosses the room to Hwanwoong’s bed and starts to prise the pillow from his head.

‘As your elder, I order you to tell me,’ sniffs Keonhee, and he puffs his chest out.

Dongju rolls onto his back and sighs. A part of him wishes to whack Keonhee with the pillow, but another part of him longs to share the details with his friend. Already, it feels like such a long time that he has had to spend keeping everything secret. ‘We’ve kissed a few times. Quite a lot of times,’ he adds with a small smile. ‘I like that part a lot.’

‘I can’t believe you couldn’t come to talk to me _right_ after your first kiss,’ sighs Keonhee. ‘Tell me everything now. Not the kiss on the stage, mind. The good stuff.’

‘It was on the rooftop,’ he says shyly, ‘after we got the second win.’

‘Of course,’ exhales Keonhee. ‘Is Hwanwoong a good kisser?’

‘Yes,’ he answers without hesitation, even though he has never kissed anyone else, because he cannot imagine that there is another person on earth who could make him feel the way that Hwanwoong does when he kisses him. ‘Very good. The best.’

‘Bet he’s had plenty of practice with the back of his hand.’

This time, Dongju does hit him with the pillow.

Unfazed, Keonhee takes it away and chucks it back to his own bed. ‘You know what’s next, right?’ he says, in a sober tone.

Without having to ask, Dongju has an idea of exactly what he is referring to. ‘Yeah. I know.’

‘The longer it goes on, the harder it’ll get.’

‘I know.’

‘We should set up a meeting with the CEO. Or would it be easier to talk to the managers first?’ He’s talking about telling the company, and even though Dongju has always known that this conversation would be coming, he longs to slip back into his couple of days of happiness instead.

‘I don’t know,’ he whispers, casting his eyes up to his own bunk and counting the slats again. ‘I need to talk to Hwanwoong about it. The company aren’t going to be happy. We’re not supposed to be dating _anyone_ , let alone each other, and after we denied everything last time, it’s not going to go down well. But I know you’re right, and Hwanwoong knows that we’re going to have to do it as soon as possible too. No more secrets.’

‘We’re all going to be by your side,’ promises Keonhee, ‘again.’

Dongju closes his eyes and rubs them with his knuckles. ‘Are we really worth it all? I feel terrible for putting everyone else in this position.’

‘The two of you are worth the world,’ says Keonhee with a slap to his chest that is clearly intended to be uplifting. ‘And we’re going to keep telling both of you that until you get it through your skulls.’

~

Since they have no longer had to keep their trysts in utmost secrecy, Hwanwoong has found that strangely the private moments have become harder to come by. No matter what is happening in the dorm, there always seems to be someone hovering around, and whenever they go out, half of the group promise to join them like bodyguards. Each time that their eyes meet across a room, he notices that another of their friend’s has caught a glimpse of their shared moment and is looking to the others with a knowing expression. As it goes on, Hwanwoong feels as if his claustrophobia is become internalised.

He needs to escape this stifling environment, even if only to a room small in physical size, where he can be alone with Dongju.

‘I’m gonna go shower,’ says Dongju early in the evening. Keonhee and Geonhak are out buying dinner, and the other members are clustered quietly around the TV. A hint of spring in the air means that the nights are closing in later, so there is still light outside the windows, but Dongju offers no explanation for his early retirement.

Seoho just makes a noise in acknowledgement, but doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. Youngjo glances over his shoulder but it is only a fleeting glance.

As if they are dating in total secrecy again, Hwanwoong waits for a minute before daring to follow. He clears his throat and stands up with an over-the-top stretch because suddenly he has forgot how to behave normally. ‘I’m just going to get something from the bedroom,’ he announces, and his voice also comes out too loud. Again, the others barely look up, so he takes the opportunity to dive from the living room and scoot down the hall.

For good measure, he shuts the bedroom door loudly enough that they will think he has gone inside, and then he slips back down the corridor to the bathroom and knocks as quietly as he can on the door. Wincing at the sound he makes, he prays that Dongju hasn’t got into the shower yet. Sure enough, after a second the door opens and crack and Dongju starts to say something before Hwanwoong presses a rapid finger to his lips and shoves his way inside.

‘Shh, I had to sneak away!’ he hisses.

‘I was just getting in the shower, hyung!’ whines Dongju, and when Hwanwoong takes stock of him he has to clear his throat again because it gets clogged up with something like nerves.

Dongju is naked from the waist up, and below that there is only a hastily wrapped towel around his waist. His hair is brushed back, revealing his strong forehead, and his feet shuffle awkwardly on the floor under Hwanwoong’s gaze.

_Fuck._

Of course, he has seen Dongju in varying degrees of undress across the times that they have known each other. Now, though, it feels different. Heat crawls up his neck to his ears when he glances down at Dongju’s smooth chest and soft abdomen, and the just visible V at his hips. ‘I – I just wanted to see you,’ he gulps, ‘I feel like we never get a moment alone anymore.’

Dongju giggles shyly and covers his waist with awkward arms. ‘Maybe we need to come up with a signal.’

‘May I kiss you?’ whispers Hwanwoong, still determined to show off his new courage to Dongju. And it has been ages.

‘Yeah,’ grins Dongju with a slight flutter of his eyelashes.

Hwanwoong is determined to become the sort of man who can make his boyfriend weak at the knees. Charm has always been his strong suit, so romance ought to go hand in hand with that. He traces Dongju’s cheekbones and then brushes his fingertips over his lips. They tremble under his touch, and that’s when he has to pull him down to kiss him, tangling a hand in his hair.

There’s no hesitation between them anymore. The kiss turns deep quickly, and almost rough as they take advantage of the limited time together. Dongju knots a hand in Hwanwoong’s hair too and their tongues stroke together; Dongju tastes of mint. Hwanwoong lets his hands drop to Dongju’s chest, forgetting that he’s unclothed, and the feeling of his bare skin is addicting. He traces little lines, and then jumps when he feels Dongju shiver under his touch when his fingers stray to where he’s sensitive.

They break apart for breath.

The bathroom is hot.

‘Is it okay?’

Dongju nods like his life depends on it.

Hwanwoong strokes his fingers down the line of his chest to his navel, and then emboldened by the once-familiar secrecy of their encounter, he breathes, ‘can I touch you?’

‘Y-yes,’ Dongju stammers.

With a deep breath, Hwanwoong slides his hand down to graze over the towel covering Dongju’s crotch, and he latches their mouths back together when Dongju gasps, like he can drink in the sound.

He’s never touched a man like this.

Apart from a few very awkward fumblings a long time ago, he’s never touched anyone like this.

His heart is beating so fast that it pounds in his ears, but he reminds himself that he needs to be his very most impressive self, that he needs to show Dongju that he can be as bold as he is.

He palms over him, shifting the attention of his kisses to his jaw, and just when Dongju starts to keen under his touch, there is an almighty bang and they leap apart like an electric current has swivelled around the bathroom.

Breathing heavily, Hwanwoong spins around. It was the front door slamming in the spring breeze, he knows the sound well. The spell broken, when he looks back at Dongju again they both look nervous and shy again. Dongju pushes some stray hairs back from his forehead and crosses his arms over his body. Hwanwoong does not know what to say, so he just laughs a little and Dongju laughs too.

‘I should go,’ says Hwanwoong, ‘before one of them bursts in here.’

Dongju nods, but his breathing is still rapid. ‘Hyung - ’ he starts when Hwanwoong turns to shuffle away. ‘Hyung, we can – we can definitely do that again,’ he says in a shaky voice. ‘Maybe without getting interrupted next time. If you want.’

A surge of pride makes Hwanwoong stand up straighter. ‘Sure,’ he says, with a confident smile. He finally feels like he’s getting his old groove back again. ‘Let me know when you come up with a signal.’

‘I will.’

With one more look at him that Hwanwoong regrets having to cut short, he slips out of the bathroom and closes the door with a soft click behind him. Luckily, Keonhee and Geonhak seem to have spilled into the living room, so he can sneak to the bedroom and retrieve a hoodie. An excellent alibi for some dormitory subterfuge.

As he pulls it on, he tries to make sense of what just happened in the bathroom, but his head is in a haze – an excited, cloudy haze.

‘Did I miss the start?’ he asks when he skips back into the living room, referring to the drama that they’ve begun to watch diligently every week.

Keonhee, who has already stolen his seat, answers: ‘just the recap.’

Squashing in beside him, Hwanwoong prays that the self-satisfaction isn’t written all over his face.

~

By the time that Dongju decides that the moment has arrived, spring has drifted into being and they are back in the studio rehearsing for their upcoming live shows. The bitter winter has been recompensed by a spring that warms early, drifting across the skies with silver-white clouds and short showers. They’re printed, though, on a bright blue sky comprised of smooth brushstrokes, and the sun breaks through earlier and earlier each day.

Inside the dance studio, it could still be winter because there are no windows. Only mirrors and walls covered with tangled wires, and the viewing panel out to the hallway but they have pulled the blinds down firmly over that glass. The room is too small for the number of supporting dancers that they have with them to rehearse this stage, and Dongju has noticed Hwanwoong getting tetchy, so he pulls him aside during one of their short breaks and tugs him by the sleeve into the corridor.

‘You’re stressing again,’ says Dongju. When nobody emerges at either end of the corridor, he cups Hwanwoong’s cheek gently.

‘I don’t like it when everyone’s crammed in like that,’ he mutters, ‘I can’t visualise the stage. And there’s a higher risk of injury when we’re all bumping into each other. We need to rent a bigger practice space before the tour. If the tour goes well, then the promoters will be able book us more venues and the company will arrange the world tour. It’s important we get this right.’

Dongju knows that Hwanwoong takes every detail of their work seriously. To Dongju, things like tours and promotions are up to the company, and he doesn’t worry himself about them; in his mind, his job is just to show up to work and perform. But Hwanwoong cares about the arrangements and the profits and how the company maintains their position in a precarious industry. The problem is that with so much bouncing around in his head at every second, he also gets the most stressed.

‘I know. But we can only do our part, okay? We practice, we dance, and we can only do our best.’

Hwanwoong turns his face into Dongju’s hand and presses a soft kiss to his palm. ‘We still need to get things clear with the company,’ he whispers, ‘and we should do it before the concerts start. The last thing we want to do is disrupt the tour.’

‘I agree,’ nods Dongju, ‘I think we should do it now. Today.’ He thumbs the hair at Hwanwoong’s temple and then strokes down his jaw. He needs to shave, but they’ve been so busy that some mornings the thought seems to pass him by.

‘Do _you_ want to march into the CEO’s office and announce that we need a meeting?’ says Hwanwoong weakly, still leaning into his touch.

Dongju gives a nervous laugh. ‘No, no. I don’t think either of us want to do that. I think we should tell Manager Byun. I trust Manager Byun. He’s fair and he’s always helped us out. And I don’t think he’ll get… mad. Even if he’s angry he won’t yell at us.’ As he says it, the image of Manager Jeong grabbing hold of him and almost shouting at him at the TV studio swims back into his mind and he shudders.

‘Yes,’ Hwanwoong nods. He lowers his voice as a member of staff walks down the corridor and Dongju drops his hand. ‘Let’s talk to him later, when everyone else leaves the studio. I’m sure we can take him aside for a moment.’

For the rest of the practice, Dongju cannot concentrate, even though he knows that they are doing the right thing. His movements become jerky and he keeps running the first chorus choreography during the last chorus instead, which means he collides with Geonhak over and over. The others, noticing that he is distracted, keep asking if he wants to sit down, but he just shakes his head. Concentrating on the dance out to take his mind away from what they’re about to do.

His life seems to have become a ceaseless sequence of big moments like this, each more nerve-wracking than the last. Coming out, coming out to the company, telling the truth to Hwanwoong, telling the truth about the two of them to the other members, and now this. And then, there will be only one big moment left: telling the rest of the world. If the headlines were outrageous after the kiss, then he can only imagine what they will look like then.

Strangely he is not afraid.

He has his brother and his team and Hwanwoong.

It works out perfectly. As the dancers leave at the end of practice, Dongju sits down and pretends to rifle through his bag for something. The other members wander to the car with Manager Kim, none of them questioning why Hwanwoong would loiter around waiting for his boyfriend, and Manager Byun jogs back down the corridor to search for something that Geonhak has left behind.

‘You boys ready to go?’ he calls out.

Hwanwoong closes the studio door with a click and runs his fingers through his hair with nerves.

‘Actually, Manager Byun, we were wondering if we could have a chat with you? If you have time? It will only take a minute,’ starts Dongju. He’s getting used to this now. It makes him feel older, having all of this confidence, and he realises in the back of his mind that he _is_ older now. He’s making choices for himself, deciding on the life that he wants to have and that life isn’t one where he’s hiding away for the whole of his career. He wants to walk down the street, holding hands with Hwanwoong.

‘Of course,’ nods Manager Byun, and though he keeps his usual calm smile on his face, Dongju is sure that he knows he’s about to hear something serious.

Dongju stands up next to Hwanwoong. There’s nowhere to sit in the studio other than the floor and a couple of rickety fold-up chairs against the wall, and neither of them seem fitting for the occasion. Figuring that there is no point in subtlety now, he puts an arm around Hwanwoong’s back and rests is hand on his shoulder with a squeeze.

‘The thing is, Manager Byun - ’

‘The two of you are in a relationship,’ the manager sighs, but there’s a half-smile still on his face.

‘I - ’ Hwanwoong stops and looks at Dongju.

Dongju doesn’t know what to say.

‘I ought to let the CEO know,’ says Manager Byun.

‘You don’t seem surprised?’ gulps Dongju.

‘Why don’t you sit down?’ the manager pulls out two of the plastic chairs and Hwanwoong and Dongju sink down into them, while he himself squats with his back against the wall. ‘We’ve been waiting for you to tell us since that day in the office, after the kiss,’ he says in a sympathetic voice. ‘The CEO drafted the statement that same day.’

The words crash around Dongju’s brain and he’s glad that he sat down after all. His hands shake when he puts them on his knees and he wants to knead over his eyes, his whole face, but he also wants to remain composed. ‘You… you were waiting for it?’

‘We thought you’d never tell us.’

‘We weren’t seeing each other then,’ whispers Hwanwoong. He, too, sounds like his earth has just been upended.

‘You don’t have to feel guilty,’ says Manager Byun, ‘we all knew that it would be hard for you, and that it would take time. Youngjo’s words in the office, about being on the right side of change, they meant something to the CEO. He wanted to wait for you.’

‘You don’t understand, we _really_ weren’t in a relationship then,’ splutters Dongju, but even as he says it himself he knows that it sounds ridiculous. Of course the company would have assumed that after the kiss, and after what happened in the office. ‘But we – we are now.’

‘You’re not mad?’ whispers Hwanwoong. ‘Because this is… not what we expected. Like at all.’

Manager Byun rests a hand on his shoulder, nudging Dongju’s fingers that are already there. ‘The company has been prepared for this for a long time. We can release a quiet statement, and the company will promise its full support. If the CEO was mad then I’m sure that he dealt with those feelings a while ago. Everyone knows that this is the only way forwards for the group, and for us all.’

Dongju considers the words, and the implications of them. ‘A quiet statement won’t stay quiet for long, once the press gets hold of it.’

All three of them know that, and neither Hwanwoong nor their manager has anything to say immediately. Silence settles in the usually loud dance studio, an eerie blanket that creates an echo like a gunshot when Dongju moves his chair slightly.

Then, Hwanwoong clears his throat and takes Dongju’s hand. ‘Let them talk. I’m not afraid of them.’

Dongju thinks of the baby bird that Hwanwoong told him about – _his_ baby bird – that was featherless and vulnerable and needed protecting in the cradle of his hands. He thinks, now, that the bird is stretching out its wings in bright blue and gold plumage, ready to fly.

~

Peace is something that Hwanwoong dreams of.

He dreams about open space, like a long stretch of coastline with a golden beach along which he can walk for hours, the horizon a million miles away. Or a meadow filled with pink and blue and yellow flowers that reach up to his knees, with the blue sky infinite overhead. Or a mountain range with hills and valleys and dips and rises, no end and no beginning, only a journey. These are the places where he knows that his claustrophobia will never take hold, ever again.

He lives in them.

They’re so peaceful. As he lies awake but with his eyes closed, he listens to their sounds: the ripple of waves, birdsong, a whistle of wind. He can smell them, from the sea water to the flowers to the snow, because he thinks that when it snows there is a unique scent to the air. If he concentrates, he can even feel them – Dongju’s breath on his neck is the warm air of that beach.

Today is their last day of relative peace.

The company will release their _quiet statement_ tomorrow morning, with the consent of both of them.

The rest of the group have left them to sleep in late alone together; Keonhee snuck out of the room early for him. Though Hwanwoong is awake, he does not want to lose a second of this moment by indicating so. This is the last time they’ll sleep together in this bed with the rest of the world still in the dark. Tomorrow, it will feel like they’ve invited the whole world _into_ this bed. He draws circles on Dongju’s soft skin, and lifts his hands to kiss them. If Dongju is awake, then he doesn’t indicate so.

They don’t have plans for the day, but Hwanwoong thinks that is peaceful too. From tomorrow, they will be able to go out on as many dates as they want, so long as they have a manager with them, and for a while everything will be chaos. For today, Hwanwoong is intent to sleep and eat and play games with Dongju, like they always have, except now with the additional bonus of kissing.

‘You’re awake,’ says Dongju.

‘I’ve been awake for ages,’ he laughs. He turns onto his side and looks into Dongju’s eyes, and it strikes him that this Dongju is just for him. The rest of the world gets to see him on stage, in his make-up, looking magnificent, but this Dongju is reserved all for him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, crooked morning smile. ‘I dreamed about you, by the way.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Dongju grins. He squeezes a hand between them to tap Hwanwoong’s jaw.

‘We were at the beach,’ says Hwanwoong. ‘Just walking. Walking and walking.’

‘Maybe when we get that world tour, we’ll visit the beach,’ whispers Dongju.

Hwanwoong nods before sitting up and climbing over his body. ‘I’m going to cook you breakfast.’

‘Excuse me?’ he laughs. ‘You can’t cook.’

‘It’s what boyfriends do. You’re my boyfriend, right?’

He sees the way that Dongju responds to the word, the way that his eyes widen a little and his lips part. ‘Y-yeah. I mean of course. Of course we’re boyfriends.’

‘So shush yourself, and get ready to eat my food,’ says Hwanwoong, tilting his chin up. ‘And you’re not allowed to complain about it, even if it’s bad, because I’m your boyfriend.’

Cooking for Dongju does make him nervous, but he’s hoping that there will be someone in the kitchen who can advise, whether it is Manager Byun who has a special skill at making fried mackerel for Youngjo in the mornings, or Geonhak who has mastered eggs in a way that none of the rest of them can manage. However, when he reaches the kitchen he finds only Keonhee, who breakfasts on a sugar-filled cereal that he picks up from the international food store.

‘I just told Dongju that I’ll cook him breakfast,’ says Hwanwoong in a rush, ‘but I have no idea what I’m doing.’

Keonhee swivels around on his barstool with a smirk. ‘I see.’

‘You see what?’ he mutters.

‘I see that you’re whipped.’

‘Don’t,’ says Hwanwoong as he picks up a spatula and brandishes it in his direction. ‘If you’re not going to be helpful, then don’t talk to me. Oh _God_. I don’t know what to cook. I don’t cook! Where’s Geonhak?’

‘Went out for a run,’ grins Keonhee, ‘looks like you’re on your own.’

Hwanwoong curses under his breath and starts pulling open cupboards. This is _not_ the way to impress Dongju. He ought to have picked any other option from the romance repertoire. He should have asked Youngjo, who writes love poetry in his spare time, for advice.

‘Look, Hwanwoong, Dongju is all in love with you and everything. He’s not going to care what you cook. Give him some of my cereal and he’ll probably say you’re the next star of _Chef’s Table_.’

Hwanwoong doesn’t hear the rest of what he says, because he is far too caught up on the _L_ word. Not just the _L_ word, but the _I-L_ words. Because he loves Dongju, just like he loves Youngjo and Seoho and Keonhee and Geonhak, but being _in love_ is a very different thing. It slips in casually into Keonhee’s speech like it’s nothing, but it isn’t nothing. He doesn’t know how it’s supposed to work with someone who has been your friend for so long.

Is he in love with Dongju?

Surely they haven’t dated for long enough?

And yet, he’s known Dongju for longer than many people know each other before they get _married_.

He splutters, trying to remember what Keonhee said other than those words. ‘I – you –’

‘What?’ Keonhee shrugs. ‘Was it something I said?’

‘You said he’s in love with me,’ hisses Hwanwoong with a worried look over his shoulder as if Dongju will have materialised out of nothing in the kitchen.

‘Do you think he isn’t?’

‘Keep your voice down!’

Keonhee looks at him with a pitying expression. ‘Hwanwoong, you’re my best friend, but you can be really stupid sometimes. Dongju looks at you like you’re his hero and his biggest crush movie-star wrapped up into one perfect bundle. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy every time I see you together.’

‘We’ve only been _seeing_ each other for a few weeks!’

‘Right. Yeah. Like you met on a blind date or something? You’ve _done_ all the other stuff already. You had a whole relationship packaged and ready, all that’s changed is you added the kissing. Don’t act surprised that he’s head over heels for you. And _don’t_ think that I don’t notice the way you look at him too.’

‘How do I look at him?’ Hwanwoong says, ignoring the rest. Suddenly he’s aware, once again, that the other members are watching them at all times, just like the cameras, just like the whole world will be after tomorrow.

‘Heart eyes.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You look at him the way people look at kittens and puppies. Like he’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you want to cuddle him to death. Something like that, anyway.’

Hwanwoong cringes. ‘I do _not_!’

‘I’m messing with you,’ Keonhee laughs, ‘you’re _very_ subtle. Sometimes you get this little sparkle in your eye and you forget anyone else is in the room, so when we talk to you, you don’t even notice. But other than that, _very_ subtle.’

Hwanwoong pulls down eggs from the cupboard and starts breaking them into a bowl. He has to pick out the shell each time, but he thinks that he manages to find all of the big chunks.

‘Are you nervous? About tomorrow?’ asks Keonhee, his voice turning serious at last.

‘Of course. I’m scared as hell. But I want to be brave for Dongju. He’s done all the bravery so far. I need to show him I can be strong for him.’

Keonhee catches his wrist before he can grab the whisk. ‘But you’re doing this for you, too, right? Not just for him? I don’t want you rushing into something that you might not be ready for just because you’re trying to be brave.’

‘It is for me too,’ he says softly, and he is being honest. ‘I don’t want us to have this wonderful thing together and then a year down the line, we get exposed by some tabloid, some hidden camera. I don’t want us to be cheap gossip news. I don’t want the _group_ to be that kind of news. We’ve always conducted ourselves with poise. Our silence after the kiss was principled and gracious, and most people respected it. Our relationship isn’t a dirty secret and I – I don’t want to treat it like one.’

‘You’re both very brave,’ whispers Keonhee.

‘We have to be, or there’s no way we’ll survive this,’ he says, in absolute truth. He knows the sort of things that will be said about them, the way that some people will react. However, he doesn’t think about the fans they might lose; he thinks about the fans that are coming to terms with who they are and who they love, and who might hold onto the two of them as a promise that things will be okay. ‘Dongmyeong is going to come around in the morning, by the way, so that he can be with Dongju when everything drops.’

‘You know I’ll be right by your side, right? So you’ll have someone too.’

‘Well I’ll have Dongju,’ he says with a reassuring smile, even though he would sure appreciate having his best friend holding his hand too. ‘But thank you.’

~

The kiss feels like a lifetime ago.

Dongju hardly remembers the person he was when he and Hwanwoong touched their lips together on that stage. It no longer lives in his memory as a fateful moment, because it is the moment that has brought them all of this. Because of that kiss, he has Hwanwoong curled up in his lap, head thrown back against his shoulder, as they watch a music show with the other members. Thanks to that day, the day of their now infamous first win, he can run his fingertips up and down Hwanwoong’s arms as they relax and talk to the others, and he can feel how he shivers under his touch.

On that stage, and before that stage, Dongju just about recalls being awkward. He remembers being shy, and nervous around Hwanwoong because he looked up to him more than anyone else in the world. It stands out in his recollection that he spent so long trying to convince himself that he wasn’t in love with him anymore, when he ought to have known deep down in his chest that there was no falling out of love with Yeo Hwanwoong.

He remembers how he used to jump whenever Hwanwoong touched him, and how sometimes before he fell asleep he would daydream that they weren’t just cuddling because Hwanwoong was like his big tiger plushie, but because they were partners. He remembers thinking that Hwanwoong just thought that he was like his dorky younger brother, and that he would never look at him any other way. Aside from it all, he remembers imagining that the rest of his life would be lived in secrecy, one way or another.

Before the night closes in, he takes a walk by himself.

Twilight is a mist on the neighbourhood, turning everything blue and grey. Far up in the sky, two planes make their way to Incheon Airport, and they look so close that they could touch, even though Dongju knows that in reality they are likely to be miles apart from one another. Their lights flash like moving stars, comets shooting across the sky to a better place, and he thinks of when they’ll land. After the turbulence, there will be peace.

This area of town is safe, but nonetheless the managers do not like any of them going out alone any further than the corner-shops, but today no one tried to stop him. Nice cars are parked half up on the sidewalk all the way down the road, because they are just one block away from a bustling shopping street, and there are bicycles chained to every lamppost. There are no longer reporters outside the dorm – not like there will be tomorrow – but nonetheless Dongju feels more relaxed the further he strays from their road.

For a while, he enjoys the sounds of the city. In the distance, there is a siren, and close-by a car horn blares. Music is playing somewhere. Everyone that he passes is chattering, but the closer that he gets to the shopping district, the more that the sound starts to grate at him, so he slips in his earphones instead.

As he paces around, he smiles, because their song comes onto shuffle.

He feels like he has a special secret kept from the people around him as he listens, and he drifts into the song. He drifts into Hwanwoong’s voice. In fact, he never noticed before, but this song has a lot of vocal parts for Hwanwoong. Dongju could listen to him sing all day, even though Hwanwoong prefers it when he’s dancing instead. Not enough people talk about Hwanwoong’s voice, he thinks. 

Dongju knows that he shouldn’t stay out too late, because the other members will worry about him, Hwanwoong more than any of them. But he needs this, these few minutes just to clear his head and breathe in the air one more time before his life gets turned upside down again.

A small smile creeps onto his face as he realises that by this time tomorrow, everyone will know that Hwanwoong is his. _Hwanwoong_. _His_. It still sounds crazy just to think it. Somehow, _somehow_ he has achieved the impossible, the thing that some people long their whole lives for. By some miracle, he’s managed to make the man of his dreams fall for him right back.

Thoughts on Hwanwoong, he turns on his heel and starts the walk home. Solitude is nice, but not as nice as company these days.

‘We were starting to get worried!’ complains Seoho when he arrives back at the dorm and lets himself in through the front door.

‘Sorry, I lost track of time,’ he lies, but his eyes search immediately for Hwanwoong. He’s curled on the sofa, clearly trying not to look like he, too, was worried. His roots have grown through now that they don’t have promotion schedules, and Dongju hopes that he will be able to grow out his natural colour before they bleach it to oblivion again. That’s how he thinks Hwanwoong looks his very best: when the make-up is cleansed away and his hair is soft and dark.

‘I thought we could watch a movie before bed,’ suggests Hwanwoong. The others move around them, speaking only in hushed tones, as Dongju crosses to the couch and sits down beside him. ‘One of your _Disney_ ones.’

‘You hate those,’ laughs Dongju. He pulls his hoodie over his head, and before he can throw it away Hwanwoong grabs for it and wraps it around his hands. Like he wants to feel his warmth.

‘Do not,’ he pouts.

‘Yes, you do!’

‘I don’t hate them.’

‘You always say they’re too predictable, and you don’t like the princes because you always think they don’t deserve the princesses!’

‘Well they don’t,’ huffs Hwanwoong. ‘But you like them. And I like things you like. They make you happy. You can watch the movie and I’ll watch you being happy. There’s no way I’d rather spend a couple of hours.’

Something makes Dongju glance over his shoulder in time to see Seoho miming throwing up into a sick bag. Before Seoho can protest or make some excuse, Dongju launches himself over the back of the couch and chases him into the kitchen. They knock over a spindly table as they go, and Youngjo tries to tell them to slow down but his voice is lost in the chaos.

‘Respect your elders!’ yelps Seoho when Dongju catches him around the waist, halfway into his and Geonhak’s bedroom.

Dongju has half a mind to drag him to the ground, but he has to catch his breath because he is laughing. His breath comes in wheezes and he has to prop himself up on the end of one of the beds because he has a stitch in his side. Seoho collapses down onto his bed, choking on his own laughs.

‘You’d better – get used to this kind of thing - ’ pants Seoho, ‘if the two of you – are going to be acting like lovebirds all over the dorm!’

Dongju can hardly remember who he was before that kiss, but he knows that he would never have imagined a moment like this. Sharing a laugh with his brothers about his own little love story. Not just with any boy but with _the_ boy.

Now, it all feels as natural as breathing.

~

Hwanwoong knows that he is not the only one watching the clock.

They seem to take turns to glance at it, even though everyone pretends that they are not. Whenever he glances around the room, he notices that at least one of them is looking at the wall-mounted clock. It’s a fancy design, a gift from one of their managers when they moved into the new dorm, with a gold mirror effect and a yellow bird atop a golden perch to mimic an old cuckoo clock. The delicate black hand ticks closer and closer to the hour.

‘We should play a game!’ announces Seoho, because nobody is watching the TV. Nothing is airing anyway apart from a rerun of the drama that they have already caught up on.

Hwanwoong flinches when the second hand ticks past the upright position, and the wider gold hand shifts to the 10. Dongju’s legs are entangled over his lap, and he wonders if he feels the jump. Hwanwoong rests a hand down on his lower thigh and squeezes, to reassure himself more than Dongju.

‘I don’t really think - ’ starts Dongmyeong, with a look over at either Geonhak or Youngjo to back him up. Dongju is leant against him, and Hwanwoong is sure that his closeness is comforting even if Dongju would never admit it out loud.

‘We can’t pretend like nothing is happening,’ sighs Youngjo. Dark shadows surround his eyes. Surely, he has had another sleepless night.

Much as he would like to forget, to sink into a game with the others like this was just any other morning off, Hwanwoong agrees. He nods. ‘Youngjo-hyung, will you check if it’s been posted?’

‘This isn’t what we agreed on,’ says Geonhak nervously, ‘we weren’t going to look at - ’

‘I just want to know if it’s been posted,’ whispers Hwanwoong.

Dongju, sensing his fear, sits up and takes his hands. On any other day, someone would joke about the two of them being so clingy together, but nobody makes a joke today. Hwanwoong closes his eyes and concentrate on the gentle stroke of Dongju’s thumbs over his hands. If he focuses, then maybe he can pretend they’re in bed together, cuddling like they do every night. That single bed is their sanctuary, unaffected by anything that happens beyond its bubble.

‘They posted it,’ says Youngjo, and Hwanwoong’s eyes shoot back open.

The statement is nondescript, a simple message without any photo attachment. Most fans who do not speak Korean will likely scroll straight past it, assuming that it is a small notice. But slowly the word will spread. The few sentences will become essays of conjecture in the tabloids, and their photographs will be blown up on every screen and page in the city. By Hwanwoong and Dongju’s request, the statement makes no specific comment on sexuality.

They did not see it as something that needed to be announced.

The message is quite simple: the two members are in a committed relationship, with the full support of their teammates and the company.

‘The hard part is done,’ says Keonhee in his most serious voice. He leans over from his seat and holds Hwanwoong’s arm. ‘Just like ripping off a band-aid, right?’

Hwanwoong can’t help but think that the hard part is all to come, but he does not argue with him.

 _Everyone knows_.

Suddenly, all of the courage that has kept him buoyed, that he thought he had mastered, evaporates through his pores. His hands are shaking and Dongju will surely feel it. Air becomes hard to come by, and his lungs constrict. Or is it his heart? Something constricts, like invisible hands have reached through his skin to crush him. Fear tastes like blood in his mouth. He doesn’t want Dongju to know how afraid he is.

‘I’m just going to run to the bathroom,’ he says mechanically.

‘Baby - ’ whispers Dongju, but Hwanwoong is already pulling his hands away and it doesn’t even register in his mind what Dongju has just called him.

 _It registers_.

Halfway down the hall.

‘It’s okay,’ says Dongju to the others, holding out a hand to tell them to stay, and Hwanwoong squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment when he hears.

He does not go to the bathroom, but to the bedroom where he feels safe.

Dongju follows him inside and grabs him by the wrist. ‘Talk to me Woong.’

‘I can’t. It’s humiliating.’ The words blurt out.

‘Humiliating? Why?’ Dongju lifts his free hand to his face and tilts it to look at him. Immediately, as their eyes meet reluctantly, Hwanwoong feels he cannot look away.

‘Because you’re brave and I’m not! How are you not freaking out?’

‘I am. I’m freaking the hell out. I’m scared, terrified.’

‘Y-you don’t look like it.’ Hwanwoong wishes that his voice did not sound so accusatory but he can’t help it.

‘No, because you’re freaking out more, and I need to be strong for you,’ whispers Dongju.

‘I’ve been trying to be strong for _you_ ,’ says Hwanwoong in return and his voice cracks. All this time that he has been imagining Dongju with the heart of a lion… but really all along he was just trying his best not to scare him too.

Hwanwoong leans his forehead down on Dongju’s shoulder and exhales into his collarbone. His shoulders settle from hunching to his ears when Dongju rests a hand at the back of his neck and smooths down the hair at his nape. Wrapping his arms around his waist, Hwanwoong pulls him into him and clutches to the back of his blue tee like a lifeline. Made possible by his posture, Dongju rests his chin down onto his head and rubs circles into his back.

‘We’ll get through this, hyung,’ says Dongju, ‘we’ve already jumped a lot of hurdles. This is like the home stretch.’

‘I know,’ he whispers.

‘Just think, if we walked outside right now, I could kiss you in front of everyone in the street and there would be nothing that _anyone_ could do about it.’

Hwanwoong laughs softly and sniffs as he steps back. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m excited for that part.’

‘Think about all our fans who are like us, who are going to know that we stand up for them. That’s what I think about when I’m really scared.’

‘Me too,’ he whispers. He clears his throat, finding fluid there, and rubs his eyes. ‘I want to read what people are saying. I know they all say we shouldn’t but I can’t help it, Ju, I need to know.’

Dongju nods and tilts his chin up. ‘We’ll read it together then. Let’s read it now. But afterwards we should close it and not look again.’

It’s a compromise that Hwanwoong knows is part and parcel of a relationship. He smiles and rests his hands down on Dongju’s chest. His heart is racing under his shirt. ‘Thank you.’

‘Together, remember? We’re going to get through everything together.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/hvanwoong)


	3. Part 3

Togetherness is a state that Dongju soon learns means everything.

He does not think that he would have survived those first couple of weeks without Hwanwoong, without his brother, and without all of the members around him.

In solitary moments, he finds peace, but it is momentary and after a few minutes thoughts creep into his mind that he cannot silence. Locking himself away in the bedroom and hiding from the world does not work anyway near as well as spending time with everyone. So he passes his days at the studio in dance practice surrounded by people, and the evenings with his brother or the team watching movies and playing games, and the night times curled up with his boyfriend in a bed that has long since become _their_ bed.

The weeks go in three stages:

First, the pain.

It starts with the comments that they read and ends with the shattered remains of a camera and tripod that they find on the doorstep, a gesture from a former fansite that Dongju can barely remember. Someone burns their photocard collection outside the company building, and no amount of Seoho laughing about how ridiculous it is makes Dongju feel any better. Pain is watching Hwanwoong not eating, turning ashen-faced, pacing the dorm every day because they have nowhere else to go.

Second, comes the euphoria.

Deep down, it’s probably more damaging than the pain. For a week or so, everything is thrilling. The realisation that truth means freedom hits Dongju like a train, and he finds himself lying awake at night thinking about _everything_. Taking Hwanwoong out to the movies. Holding his hand in the street. Talking about him in interviews. He imagines a magazine cover when one of the more forward fashion magazines will surely ask them to kiss. He talks all the time, babbling away at anyone who will listen. A strange urge takes over him, the urge to find a hilltop somewhere and scream at the top of his lungs, good and bad things and anything that will allow him to feel. When the euphoria wears off, he finds his belly hollow.

Third, comes calm.

Only then, as the weeks fade into a month, does he feel that peace that he and Hwanwoong have talked about. It’s then that he starts to spend his time leaning on his family, his friends. When calm washes up like a rippling wave on his shores, he realises that quiet is the finest state of all. The press don’t stop, and the outpouring of support and rage does not stop either, but the noise in Dongju’s head does. Time heals, and he basks in that healing like soothing hot springs.

‘She needs to choose the man she loves,’ complains Hwanwoong, at the drama on the television.

Dongju’s head is laid in his lap. This couch has become _their_ couch too and no one else in the dorm dares to take a seat there anymore. Hwanwoong’s fingertips trace the lines of his face and run gently through his hair, massaging his scalp. Dongju has lost track of the drama, concentrating only on the sparkles of sensation that radiate from his touch.

‘Screw the consequences. You have to go after the person you love.’

Dongju listens to him talk with a small smile on his face. He could listen to Hwanwoong talk about anything, but love is his favourite subject. Thus far, he has been too afraid to say the words to Hwanwoong, but he daydreams that the moment will arise soon. It has to. They’ve come too far already.

He only lifts his head when the front door opens and closes with a howl of wind, because a spring storm has taken over the outdoors. Rain spatters onto the front step, and Manager Byun steps inside, huddled up in a blue raincoat. As he shakes away water, Youngjo stands to make him a drink immediately. Dongju sits up, aware that their manager has been at the company building for hours, and he makes to stand too but Hwanwoong slides an arm around his waist and he stops, more than happy to stay here instead.

‘Hey, boys,’ says Manager Byun. They all greet him with smiles.

Dongju is very fond of their manager. After everything, he has never offered a complaint. He has never been frustrated at the upheaval in his job description. And he has always treated Dongju and Hwanwoong like something other than a zoo exhibit, which is how Dongju has felt these last few weeks.

‘I have some news about the tour.’

‘The tour?’ Hwanwoong’s hand tightens on Dongju’s waist and he can feel the vibration of his interest.

‘As you know, we were worried about the tickets. Those that had already been sold, and those that were still available,’ says Manager Byun. Youngjo presses a coffee into his hand but he doesn’t sit down, still soaked by the rain. ‘The fact of the matter is - ’

Dongju looks down, feeling the tension.

‘Every ticket has sold out.’

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and then they begin to make sense. _Sold out_. The tour is sold out. Dongju rests a hand on Hwanwoong’s chest, closing his fingers tight on the wool of his sweater, and looks around in disbelief. Nobody else seems to be able to believe it either. Steadily, understanding hits, and Youngjo pulls their manager into a hug as Seoho throws his head back against the couch and makes a loud sound of exhausted relief.

‘The promoter is prepared to book a world tour,’ says Manager Byun, in something of a stranglehold that has been joined by Keonhee.

Dongju jumps as Hwanwoong presses a kiss to his temple, a long lingering kiss that he might remember for the rest of his life. This feels better than their first or second or third win. After everything, thousands of their fans are going to cram in to see them. They love them. ‘You know what this means?’ whispers Hwanwoong. His voice is quiet and breathless against his ear.

Dongju grins. ‘What?’

‘I’m going to take you to every Disney Park in the world,’ says Hwanwoong.

Butterflies spring loose and Dongju has to look away because his cheeks turn scarlet. ‘I thought you were going to say something about hotels,’ he laughs softly.

‘That too. I thought about that too.’

~

The flight to Japan is short, less than three hours, but Hwanwoong hates flying. It’s not a fear of the heights, or the danger, but of the cabin itself. Nothing triggers his claustrophobia more than an enclosed space crammed with other people from which, after take-off, there can be no escape. Previously, a doctor working for the company prescribed him an anti-anxiety medicine to take before flying, but Hwanwoong doesn’t like taking that kind of thing because it upsets his stomach. He sits between Dongju and the window, after much discussion of where would be best.

In the aisle seat, he could stand up and pace if needed, but the window seat offers the promise that there is still a world beyond his aluminium prison. He rests his head against the pane, wishing that this were a daytime flight during which he would be able to see more, but nonetheless the flashing lights of the runway and the distant airport building are a reminder that he isn’t truly trapped.

Not yet.

‘Are you okay?’ whispers Dongju.

They’ve been sat here for what feels like a lifetime. Take-off has been delayed by twenty minutes and that is twenty minutes too long already. ‘I’m fine,’ he lies, reminding himself that the flight is short. For their last visit to the US, he’d had to knock himself out with sleeping pills just to survive the journey. ‘Just don’t like it.’

Dongju picks up his hand from his lap and kisses his knuckles. ‘I’m sure we’ll be up in the air soon.’

Hwanwoong’s knee jiggles and his free hand clenches on the joint to try to make it stop. Even with the additional space of their upgraded seats, the wall feels very close to his arm and he makes himself small in the bucket-like chair. If he could punch right through the metal composite, then he would; throw his arms out into the night and breathe in the deep, fresh air. What if something goes wrong with the science and he cannot get enough oxygen?

The more that he thinks about it, the more that his breathing speeds up.

If something happens, then he’ll be stuck in this box forever. His very worst fear. Condemned to eternity in an inescapable case with only black night stretching out of his reach and –

‘Woong-ah?’ Dongju snaps him out of it. ‘I’m right here with you.’

He swallows, but the lump lodges in his dry throat. Though Dongju has not asked him a question, he nods.

‘Think, before we know it we’ll be in Tokyo,’ says Dongju. His voice is bright and he slides his hand down to squeeze Hwanwoong’s thigh. ‘I’d say that Tokyo is a very romantic place to spend our time.’

‘Would you?’ Hwanwoong laughs weakly.

‘Well you have the bright lights in the city, and there are lots of beautiful parks and gardens. And Disneyworld. You promised to take me to all of the Disney Parks.’

Hwanwoong closes his eyes and sinks back into the chair. ‘I did promise that.’

The plane engines rumble and Dongju keeps talking, even though this is not the part that Hwanwoong fears. ‘You have to buy me lots of things. I’d buy you some things too but you’re not so in love with _Disney_.’

‘I’m not sure we’ll be able to go to all these places, Ju,’ he murmurs, feeling guilty. Pessimism has crept in, conjured up by his claustrophobia. The plane rattles with take-off, and from the seats in the front Keonhee makes a sequence of sound-effects that make him smile in spite of himself. ‘We’re supposed to be working and I don’t think we’ll have the time.’

‘We have one day off!’ whines Dongju. ‘We can go then!’

It’s true – between their three dates, there is a day off without schedules nestled in the middle, but Hwanwoong is sure that the company will want them to film some variety material or something for a vlog while they are there. If nothing is planned, then perhaps he could convince them to do the recording _at_ the park. ‘If we’re allowed, then of course I’ll take you. And I’ll buy you something but only one thing because if you bankrupt me early then I won’t be able to buy you lots of presents later.’

When he opens his eyes, Dongju is grinning. ‘Okay. That’s fair.’

Teasing him is one thing, but Hwanwoong can’t help but want to buy all of the presents that he promises. Dongju loves things. For Hwanwoong, possessions are not too important; the only things that he keeps are a shelf of books and his games. Dongju, though, has boxes and boxes of things that the dorm has to bulge to accommodate. Everywhere they go, he wants souvenirs, and if he picks up a plushie in a store then they are guaranteed to take it home because otherwise he feels guilty at putting it back down.

Hwanwoong hopes that if the group hit it big, then he will have enough money to buy everything that Dongju could ever want.

‘Let’s ask Manager-hyung if we’re allowed to go out on our spare day,’ says Dongju, and he makes to unbuckle his seatbelt to crane over his chair in search of the managers.

Hwanwoong grabs his hand in a vice-like grip. ‘The seatbelt lights are still on, Dongju!’

‘I’ll be quick,’ he rolls his eyes, but Hwanwoong drags him back into his seat and pins him there as best he can from the side.

‘Stop it. You have to be safe.’

‘Are you worried about me?’ says Dongju slyly.

Hwanwoong swats his thigh and then sits back with a moody expression, annoyed that his boyfriend won’t take this seriously. ‘Yes. So don’t mess around. You’re my everything.’

Dongju seems to be contemplating whether to do something else to provoke him, but then he smiles and grabs Hwanwoong’s cheeks to give him a quick, abrupt kiss to his lips. Hwanwoong turns away and starts to protest but he can’t help laughing, can’t help smiling. ‘Did you just try to distract me from being scared by… scaring me?’ he says after a second, with a glower at Dongju.

‘Would I ever?’ he replies in faux outrage. Then with a smirk, he asks, ‘did it work though?’

‘Yes,’ mutters Hwanwoong. He picks at the leather on his seat arm and then glares at him again. ‘But only for a minute.’

‘Let’s watch a movie,’ says Dongju, keeping his voice bright. Then, like he’s introducing Hwanwoong to a particularly juicy and delicious candy, he adds, ‘I brought headphone splitters…’

‘Which movie?’ he pouts.

‘Anything you want. One of the inflight movies… or I downloaded loads onto my tablet. Since we’ll be spending lots of hours in the hotel room together I thought that we ought to find _some_ way to pass the time.’

Dongju keeps teasing about this, and Hwanwoong wonders if he knows that his stomach flips over every time. It’s all just playful words, but they mean something and the thought of what they mean makes nervous energy flood to his fingertips. They haven’t tried anything else, not since the one time that Hwanwoong touched him in the bathroom, but he can’t stop thinking about it. _Embarrassing_ , he thinks, but it’s true. All he can ever think about is touching Dongju, whether holding his hand or kissing him or massaging his tired muscles after a long practice. And he wants to know him more intimately than anyone.

He supposes that is what it’s like to love someone.

And there can be no denying, no avoiding and no protesting against the fact that he has fallen in love with Dongju.

Of that, he is now certain.

~

Japan rushes by quicker than Dongju could ever have anticipated.

The first night on tour is chaos as always. The setlist includes six of their new songs and the stage formations are never quite the same as they were in the studio. One of his costume changes overruns and he misses his cue, and he finds himself dragged this way and that by ten different people all shouting in his ear. He messes up on one of his prepared mentions and has to stumble back to the beginning of the translation to start over.

To the fans, though, none of it seems disordered or fragmented. They are there to live in a moment, not to rue mistakes afterwards. Dongju thinks that he could learn a lot from them. The venue is packed, settling his irrational fear that everyone had bought the tickets as some kind of joke and that they would arrive to an empty theatre. The fanchants are so loud that Dongju fears the roof will be lifted off. The sea of lightsticks glows like a swarm of luminous fireflies.

The second night of the tour is easier, but zooms past just as quick. Dongju begins to lean into the new set, and the familiar adrenaline rises up from his toes to his chest. During the final mention, he cries, and Hwanwoong puts an arm around his shoulders on instinct and the crowd screams. So deafening is the sound that Dongju has to put his ear monitors back in. The choreographies go smoothly and though there are errors – because there is no such thing as a stage show without errors – he feels better about this night than the last.

Afterwards, as he collapses onto a couch backstage and holds two handheld fans to his sweating throat, he hears Hwanwoong arguing with the managers. Tomorrow is their day off, so he perks up his attention and watches as Hwanwoong gesticulates with his hand.

Whatever the argument is about, it cannot be too serious, because Hwanwoong is still smiling from the stage and his movements are flamboyant. Only when Manager Kim glances at his watch and gives a small shrug does Hwanwoong grin in triumph. Manager Byun rolls his eyes, but does not argue any further.

Dongju, sensing that perhaps the discussion involves him in some way, lays back down on the couch and does his very best to pretend that he has seen nothing when Hwanwoong bounds over.

‘Get up, my love,’ he grins, bouncing down onto a gap between Dongju’s legs and slapping his hands on his knees. ‘We’re going out.’

‘Going out?’ Dongju splutters. They’ve just finished a _show_. He’s exhausted, overheated, dehydrated. ‘Going out where?’

‘Out!’ Hwanwoong’s face is shining and his eyes are beyond radiance. ‘Manager Kim said he’ll come with us, and as long as we have our Japanese guide then it’s okay with them. You wanted to see the Tokyo city lights. Let’s go. We already have make-up on, we look a million dollars. Please please please.’

It is the most animated that Dongju has seen Hwanwoong in months. ‘Okay,’ he says, and he intends it to come out as a petulant groan but it sounds more like excitement. ‘But we’re still going to Disneyland tomorrow, right?’

‘Of course.’ Hwanwoong kisses him, and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the stage but Dongju doesn’t care. Hwanwoong never usually kisses him in front of the staff. ‘Bright and early. So don’t let me drink a lot.’

Dongju holds him to that, prising drinks out of his hand when their guide Keiji brings them to a guest-list only bar that promises Dongju everything that he ever wished for from Tokyo. Inside the crowd is dense and the music is deafeningly loud with a bass line that goes right through his body and makes his heart rattle. They dance there, and people glance their way but only to look at Hwanwoong because when Hwanwoong dances like no one is watching, it is impossible to tear your eyes away.

He moves so fluidly that his body is one with the music. Dongju feels clumsy by comparison but it’s okay because Hwanwoong is happy to lead. He pulls him by the hand into the middle of every crowd, holds his hands on his waist when they dance and at times it’s even sensual. Bright lights spin from the ceiling, just like the strobes on the stage, lighting up the sharp lines of Hwanwoong’s face and casting each feature into outrageous relief.

Still, Dongju is glad when they slip outside for a moment to find fresh air.

There is a balcony that overlooks the city lights he dreamed of, and though the late spring air is fading into summer, he cannot help but be reminded of that kiss on the rooftop. Dressed now in a silk shirt that he’d worn on stage, he’s only a little cold until Hwanwoong wraps his arms around his waist and presses kiss after kiss to the back of his neck. ‘Isn’t this place amazing?’ he grins.

‘Yes,’ Dongju answers honestly, ‘you’re amazing.’

Drunk on happiness, genuine happiness, Dongju turns in his hold. If Manager Kim and Keiji are in the shadows, keeping a discreet distance, then he doesn’t consider them. They are approached less in Japan than back home, and it feels like a single moment that he can share with Hwanwoong in total normality. Less people pull out their camera phones at every opportunity. With the skyline behind his back, Dongju still thinks that he’s gazing upon the most beautiful thing in the city tonight as he looks upon Hwanwoong’s face.

‘You brought normal to me tonight,’ he whispers, caressing the lines of Hwanwoong’s jaw. ‘I never imagined we’d really get to go out like this.’

Hwanwoong kisses him and there are other people on the balcony but Dongju cannot care. ‘I imagine it all the time.’

That Hwanwoong brought him here means something, because it means that Hwanwoong understands him. He understands that he just wants to be treated like someone the same age as the rest of the group, instead of _the baby_ , and that places like this are as much where he belongs as Disneyland. But Hwanwoong respects Disneyland too. He understands that Dongju wants both, and he gives him everything he wants. As the thoughts rush up into his chest, he cannot hold them back.

‘I love you,’ he says.

Hwanwoong’s eyes widen a little and the gold and pink and blue from the lights over Dongju’s shoulder reflect right back at him. He slides his hands down Dongju’s chest and settles them on his hips. ‘I love you too,’ he says, and it doesn’t break any tension because for once, Dongju was not afraid. He knew that Hwanwoong would say it back. For a while he has believed it in his gut and his heart and in his mind.

Still, fireworks kick off in the cavity where his heart sits as soon as the words are spoken aloud. _Hwanwoong loves me_. Once secured, the thought will never fade. He places it in a beautiful box in his mind, filled with pink and silver confetti and wrapped with an enticing wide ribbon.

Hwanwoong pulls him into a hug, and they turn on the spot as they embrace, bumping shoulders with other people but neither of them care. The city lights spin. Even though he has been sipping soda all night, Dongju feels drunk. He cannot remember how many hours they have been awake for, but he napped for some time at the venue so he hopes that he can stay awake for as long as possible. He wants to remember this night forever, in detail.

In times like this, he wishes that he kept a diary. Hwanwoong does. He used to let him read it, but since they started seeing each other he has hidden it somewhere and forbidden Dongju ever to go looking for it. He’s sure that it’s because it is where he writes all of his gushing thoughts and love poetry, so it’s only natural that he wants to keep it a secret. Sometimes, though, Dongju watches him scribbling away while he’s curled up in the couch, and he longs to know what memories Hwanwoong considers worthy of putting down on the paper.

Does he describe their every kiss?

Does he describe the way he feels when Dongju touches his face?

Does he describe the minutiae of Dongju’s features and write little pieces detailing what he loves about each of them?

Dongju likes to think so.

‘We ought to get back to the hotel,’ says Hwanwoong, close to his ear. For the first time, Dongju notices that it is loud out here. ‘Since we’re going to wake up early tomorrow!’

‘I don’t want this night to end!’ shouts back Dongju.

‘I’ll give you a thousand nights like this.’

Dongju wonders if a few months ago, before either of them could have conceived of such a reality as they bask in now, Hwanwoong would have considered himself to be a romantic.

The thought that Dongju might have made him so brings a smile to his face that will not fade for a lone time.

~

Youngjo is awake when Hwanwoong returns to the hotel room that they are sharing. Out in the corridor, it takes Hwanwoong and Dongju at least five minutes to say goodnight, and if he hadn’t had a couple of drinks then Hwanwoong would surely have found it all too sappy. Instead, though, he plays a dutiful game of kissing Dongju’s hands and refusing to let him go before one of the managers eventually re-emerges from his room to order them to bed.

‘I thought you were never coming home,’ says Youngjo when Hwanwoong slides his key-card into the door and slips inside.

The lights are off but Youngjo has switched on the lamp bulbous gold lamp on his nightstand and it lights up the room with a dull glow. His bed hair sticks up in several different angles that make Hwanwoong giggle, but his face is awake and interested. The cotton spotted fabric of his pyjamas is in contrast to the dark silk of Hwanwoong’s stage clothes. ‘Dongju and I had the best time,’ he whispers.

Youngjo props himself up with two pillows. ‘Where did you go?’

‘This awesome bar. It had a balcony facing the city, and the music was really good.’ Hwanwoong hesitates to tell him the whole story just to build the tension. He busies himself pulling loose the bow at the top of his shirt and tugging it over his head. Even though it’s late, he knows that he needs to shower before going to bed, otherwise the product in his hair from the stage will leave it matted in the morning. The thought of doing something so mundane after what has happened tonight feels inadequate.

‘And…?’ Youngjo smiles.

Hwanwoong rifles through his suitcase in search of his wash-bag because he still has make-up on too. ‘And what?’ he says in a tempting voice.

‘You’re grinning like a Cheshire Cat!’

Hwanwoong jumps on Youngjo’s bed and rolls onto his front with an innocent smile. ‘Am not.’

Rolling his eyes, Youngjo tries to push him off the bed but is unsuccessful. ‘Spill, Woongie, I want to go to sleep!’

‘He told me he loves me,’ he announces, unable to hold it in any longer, and he sprawls onto his back instead, throwing his arms out across a protesting Youngjo. ‘Dongju said: _I love you_. He said it loud and clear, hyung.’

Finally, Youngjo stops trying to push him from the bed, and his mouth forms a small _o_ of surprise. He takes Hwanwoong by the shoulders and sits him up straight. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Deadly.’

‘Holy shit, Hwanwoong, that’s – you said it back right?’

‘Of course I said it back! What kind of monster do you take me for? Right there under the stars and the office windows that turn like stars too when your eyes are out of focus. I told him then, _I love you too_. We’re tied together now with silken thread, you know that right? Amongst all the invisible life-lines in the world, some get tangled together, and love means tying yours off in a neat little bow with the thread you want to link yourself too forever.’

Youngjo’s brow furrows. ‘Have you ever thought about writing lyrics?’

‘I’ll save all my love poetry for Dongju,’ he giggles.

‘You look sweet when you’re in love,’ sighs Youngjo, ‘younger and softer.’

 _In love_.

A few months ago, the thought would’ve terrified him. Getting that close to someone is a step further than Hwanwoong has ever taken in his life, and a step that would’ve brought fear to his heart: fear that it would affect his focus, fear that opening himself up to someone that way would compromise him some way, fear that one day the press would hear all the secrets of his love from an embittered ex.

With Dongju, there is no fear.

With Dongju, there is only an expanse of time ahead in which to share everything.

‘How am I supposed to go and wash my hair and do normal things when Dongju just told me he loves me?’ whines Hwanwoong.

‘That’s the point of love,’ says Youngjo, ‘it makes the mundane things in life feel better.’

Hwanwoong considers the words, and he thinks that they make sense. From this day forward, when he is in the shower or walking to the shops in the rain or tapping the window on a long, boring car journey, he will be doing it all with the knowledge that Dongju loves him. The thought fills him up with energy inside like kindling to a blazing fire. He cannot imagine ever feeling fatigued again. Even when he collapses after dance practice, he’ll be thinking about how Dongju _loves_ him.

‘I’m going to take him to Disneyland tomorrow,’ he says. He knows that Youngjo wants to go to sleep, but he can’t help himself. Whatever the time, he wants to talk and talk and talk about his boyfriend. The thought that someone else doesn’t want to hear about Dongju 24/7 does not even cross his mind.

‘So I’ve heard,’ smiles Youngjo. ‘I never thought I’d see Yeo Hwanwoong shooting for the boyfriend of the year award.’

‘Boyfriend of the year? I want to be boyfriend of the decade, hyung,’ he answers as if this is most obvious. ‘If it weren’t for Dongju I – I wouldn’t even know who I am. I’d still be hiding bits of me away like they were something to be ashamed of. I owe him everything.’

‘Dongju has done beautifully.’ Youngjo squeezes his shoulder. ‘But give yourself some credit too, Woongie. I’m proud of you.’

‘I didn’t think I’d ever get here. Not after you held me in that bathroom when I was vomiting and crying and - ’

‘I had faith in you.’

‘I’m sorry for that,’ Hwanwoong grimaces.

Youngjo at last manages to usher him off the bed. ‘Don’t ever be sorry. I’m always here for you. Now go and wash your hair, so that _both_ of us can get some sleep.’

He nods guiltily and grabs his wash-bag again. ‘I’ll be really quick.’

Those words turn out to be a lie, because once he is under the hot stream of the shower, he takes ten minutes just to wrap his head once again around what happened tonight. He’s so caught up in replaying Dongju’s words over and over in his mind, that he’s already stepped out of the shower before he remembers that he had to wash his hair, and he starts all over again.

~

Dongju is adamant, now, that he wants to keep a diary.

The first thing that he will write down is that Hwanwoong is admirable beyond all expectations, for the simple reason that for his boyfriend’s sake, he maintains an expression of bright excitement and interest for at least nine hours. Nine hours of _Disney._ For Dongju, who finds it difficult to keep his attention up when conversation is on subjects that he does not share the interest in, nothing is more impressive than Hwanwoong’s ability to stay _up_ even when they are at their third show of the day.

Rides are one thing, and Dongju drags Hwanwoong to queue for them because he knows that they will excite his boyfriend more than everything else, but the truth is that Dongju is here for the parades, and the shows, and the characters. Rides, he can have back home at any of the good theme parks around Seoul, but the magic is in the story, and the story is in the characters and the castle.

Dongju does not remember, when he thinks back to his childhood, at what moment he fell in love with the magic. Dongmyeong could tolerate the movies, but not in the way that Dongju obsessed over them. From the moment he first saw _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_ (because he has it on good authority that it was the first movie that his parents showed him) he fell for it all. He recalls adding disc after disc to his DVD collection, starting first with the movies with princesses and then expanding out to every single one.

The princesses, the animals, the boys who could fly. He fell in love with them all. Above all, when he thinks about it, he thinks that he fell in love with the happy ending. And not just any happy ending, but a happily-ever-after.

Because Dongju has never wanted just a happy ending. He doesn’t want the story to end abruptly, ambiguously, like a present wrapped up with a bow but never opened. He wants to know that the happiness stretches on beyond what time can hold. He wants to know that the characters are living dream lives long into the distance. _Ever after_. He thinks that Hwanwoong could be his _ever after_.

‘Are you bored?’ he whispers to Hwanwoong, at the late parade. They’re waiting for the fireworks.

‘No,’ says Hwanwoong with a reassuring smile.

‘Are you sure? Because we can go back to the hotel.’

Hwanwoong wraps his arms tighter around Dongju’s waist. ‘I’m not bored.’

‘I’m tired,’ Dongju yawns to offer him an out if he really wants it. There’s an element of truth in the words. They’ve been here for so many hours that Dongju has forgotten what the outside world looks like; he’s eaten three meals at the themed cafes and his stomach is ready to burst, and his feet are aching from all of the walking. Still, though, he does not want to go home.

They stand under the gaze of the Cinderella Castle from Dongju’s dreams. It seems to stretch all the way up to the sky, with dark blue turrets and a gleaming gold spire. Dongju imagines the two of them as characters in a fairy-tale, and wonders when the day will come when they can go to the movie theatre and watch two Princes have their happily ever after together in a palace like this. He thinks he’d like to see that.

‘I never imagined you’d get tired of all this,’ Hwanwoong laughs against his ear, and he kisses his skin ever so lightly.

They’ve kept the public displays of affection on the down low for the day, but now that the light is dim and everyone’s eyes are turned in another direction, Dongju scrunches his nose and giggles at the contact. Some people have stared at them during the day, but Dongju cannot be sure whether it is because they recognise them, or because they’ve been holding hands, or just because they stand out with their bright hair and obvious manager. By now, Dongju is used to people staring at them.

‘I’m just imagining right now, how it would be to have two princes in the castle,’ he says.

‘Do you think they’ll make a movie like that?’ asks Hwanwoong.

‘I don’t know. I hope so.’

‘I’m sorry that I don’t have a castle for you.’

‘We don’t need a castle,’ Dongju says gently. ‘One day when we’re not living in the dorm anymore I imagine us having a little apartment.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Hwanwoong grins. ‘Tell me more. I want to hear all about it.’

‘Just enough room for the two of us, and a nice big living room for the members to come around to play games and have dinner. It would be nice if we were on the ground floor so we could have a small garden. And a puppy.’

‘A puppy? What if I want a cat?’

‘Then we can have both,’ beams Dongju. ‘I don’t think we need anything like a castle. Wherever we live one day I’ll feel like a prince if I’m living with you.’

‘Still, I wish I could buy you more things,’ sighs Hwanwoong.

Dongju frowns. ‘I don’t need things, I need you.’

Both of their gazes turn up as the fireworks begin to explode overhead, and Dongju’s heart catches in his throat. He never imagined being able to come here, let alone with Hwanwoong. Gold and red and blue bursts from behind the castle, and Dongju can hear the music in his mind. Outside his head, what he feels is the warmth of Hwanwoong’s body pressed against his back, and the chin on his shoulder. ‘I love you,’ Hwanwoong whispers in his ear.

The parade of characters passes by them, and Dongju keeps his eyes ahead but his heart is behind him. It beats in Hwanwoong’s chest now. The procession music plays, _When You Wish Upon a Star_ , and Dongju thinks of all of the nights he spent at the dorm window pining for something that he thought he could never have. He thinks of how many of those stars he wished on, and the reality hits him in one explosion of fireworks that his dream came true.

‘I love you too,’ he breathes forward into the late spring air, and whether Hwanwoong hears on not, he does not know, but the world hears. Every time that he says the words aloud, he’s breathing them into life, until they will live in the very oxygen that he breathes.

~

It takes bargaining.

Not just a little bit of bargaining, but a lot, for Hwanwoong to bully Keonhee into trading rooms with him for the night.

When they’d arrived in Japan and Hwanwoong had found out that he would be sharing with Youngjo, he’d spluttered in disbelief that he was to be removed from the presence of his boyfriend, but the managers had pressed that this was a work trip, and that the names had been drawn at random. It’s not like he doesn’t like sharing with Youngjo. In fact, he _does_ like sharing with Youngjo, because Youngjo is quiet and calm and easy to fall asleep next to.

But since before they even got on that plane, Hwanwoong has considered this little piece of the tour to be more than work.

It’s his and Dongju’s first vacation away together. He’d envisaged them ordering food service to their double bed and watching pay-per-view every night.

Only when he offers him a particularly nice piece of glasswork that he bought at _Disney,_ does Keonhee trade key-cards with him so that Hwanwoong can sneak to Dongju’s room.

By the time that he tiptoes across the hotel corridor and lets himself into the room, Dongju has been waiting for him for at least half an hour. He’s sprawled out on the bed, flicking through his phone, dressed in a black tee and white track pants. His hair is still damp from the shower but his bangs have dried fluffy and drift like tumbleweed over his forehead with the slightest movement. After the exhausting day at the theme park, Hwanwoong does not begrudge him not getting dressed up for his arrival.

‘Finally!’ beams Dongju, dropping his phone onto the bed. ‘I thought Keonhee was going to keep you from me.’

‘He was just seeing what was the best trade he could get,’ Hwanwoong rolls his eyes. As he crosses to the bed, new confidence fills his body and he leans over Dongju, pinning his wrists gently to the mattress as he kisses him. Ever since last night, when Dongju told him that he loved him, he has stood a little taller. He’s puffed out his chest and stuck his chin up in the air everywhere that he goes, because there is no pride greater than knowing that Dongju loves him.

‘What did he want from you?’ Dongju pouts when they break apart.

‘He took my glass figurine,’ he sighs.

‘But that was so cute!’ says Dongju in outrage. ‘You can have my Mickey Mouse ears.’

‘It’s okay,’ he pecks another kiss to Dongju’s lips, but doesn’t mention that he would rather be seen dead than wearing those ears. ‘I’ll steal it back from him.’

He didn’t buy the glass model because he liked the movie, but because he wanted something to remember their first _proper_ real date by. He’d thought that he wouldn’t enjoy the day out as much as he did. The rides were one thing, but the best part for Hwanwoong was holding Dongju’s hand everywhere that they walked. Occasionally people stared at them, but the advantage of spending the day in dreamland was that most people were distracted by their own excitement. Getting to watch Dongju run from place to place with shining excitement in his eyes was the gift that Hwanwoong will take back to Seoul with him.

‘Thank you for taking me there, hyung,’ whispers Dongju. ‘It was like the best day of my life. Except for last night, when you told me you love me too. I think that’s the best day.’

If Hwanwoong’s baby bird has flown, then love has made it soar high into the heavens. He remembers something that his mom told him when he was younger, a quote that he’d written in his school workbook afterwards.

 _‘No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings_.’

When he started dancing, he knew that he was throwing caution to the wind. His parents did not have a lot of money and classes would be very expensive. If he chose to pursue this career instead of going to college then he could be risking all of his future and theirs along with him. He feared that he would become a dancing Icarus, crashing and burning after his own arrogance – his ceaseless self-belief – would prove to be misplaced. His mom told him then that so long as he was wearing his own wings, being the person who he wanted to be, and staying true to himself, then it would be impossible to fly too high. There could be no limit.

Now, as Dongju looks up at him with wide eyes filled with love, Hwanwoong understands the words more than ever. Being honest with himself has given him everything and more. There is no risk of falling when he’s buoyed by love. And the heavens stretch on with infinite promise.

‘You’re thinking things,’ whispers Dongju. He lifts a hand and strokes the hair back from Hwanwoong’s face.

‘I’m thinking how much I love you,’ he says. He’s not ready to put all of those thoughts into words tonight. ‘And how grateful I am to you, for helping me to understand who I am. You’re so brave and beautiful.’

The air in the hotel room is heavy with spoken and unspoken words.

This room is almost a mirror image of the one that Hwanwoong has been sharing with Youngjo, but it is a little messier and Dongju has not unpacking his clothes so everything is falling out of a case at the end of the bed. It is not a high-end hotel with a champagne ice bucket and a view of the city, but a mid-level hotel mainly for business. Therefore there is little romantic about the space, and the artwork on the wall is the same in every room, an abstract mix of blue and red brushstrokes.

None of that matters, though. They’ve already made a single bunk their safe haven, and they can make a bland hotel room their paradise.

‘Stop it,’ giggles Dongju, and Hwanwoong has to kiss him again. His lips are so irresistible and his laugh even more so.

Before Hwanwoong even realises what he is doing, Dongju has already pushed the check shirt from his shoulders and his hands slide down Hwanwoong’s arms, applying a little pressure to the muscles. Their position is intimate, Dongju on his back on the bed and Hwanwoong straddled half over him, and Hwanwoong had not noticed before but now he’s hyper aware of it. He would pause if Dongju weren’t so eager.

Instead, he allows him to push away his shirt and then tug at the hem of his tee.

Hwanwoong’s heart leaps to his throat and nerves grip his stomach but they are the good kind of nerves. The need to touch Dongju takes him over again and he grapples back at him until Dongju sits up and lets him pull the shirt over his head too.

Breathless, they stare at each other.

Hwanwoong moves forward on his knees until he can sit down on Dongju’s lap, and their bodies are skin-to-skin while their faces hover an inch apart. The breath between them is hot and heavy and Hwanwoong feels like he’s cradling a delicate flower as he touches his fingertips ever so lightly to Dongju’s bare back.

‘Do you want this?’ he whispers. From this position, Dongju feels small beneath him. He caresses the smooth skin of his back and moves one hand up to lace in his hair.

‘More than anything,’ Dongju breathes.

Hwanwoong shifts back to sit down on his thighs and meets his eyes. ‘I mean are you ready? For this?’

Dongju bites his lip and looks down. ‘Yes. I’m nervous. But yes.’

‘Why are you nervous?’ whispers Hwanwoong. He touches Dongju’s chin and lifts it up until he looks at him again.

‘It’s like… my first time.’

‘Mine too.’

Dongju stares at him, his lips parted in surprise. ‘You mean you never…?’

‘Of course not,’ laughs Hwanwoong softly, ever amazed by the image that Dongju has conjured of him in his mind. His one short-lived relationship was never _that_ serious.

Swallowing, Dongju gives him a shy smile. ‘That makes me less scared.’

‘Less scared? Shouldn’t one of us know what we’re doing?’

‘It’s makes me worry less that I’ll be bad at it.’

Hwanwoong frowns. ‘Every second that I get to spend in your world is a gift. Getting to touch your skin alone is a privilege.’

Perhaps to keep him quiet, Dongju kisses him again. It’s a messy kind of kiss, and Hwanwoong finds his teeth grazing Dongju’s lower lip. His hand slides down between them and palms over the front of Dongju’s sweats, and it makes him shiver to feel the way that his body reacts to him. When Dongju lays back, nerves take over Hwanwoong because this will mean taking responsibility for the whole world tonight. If they do this, then Hwanwoong will be taking care of his everything and he’s as inexperienced as the younger.

Dongju pushes his hands past the waist of Hwanwoong’s jeans and starts to slide them down the curve of his body. Being naked before him makes Hwanwoong turn scarlet, but he tries to remain composed, resting back on Dongju’s thighs. He slips one hand down his chest, then past Dongju’s sweats to brush over him with his bare hand for the first time. Dongju closes his eyes and exhales in satisfaction.

Even from little touches, barely-there hints of intimacy, Hwanwoong’s heart is racing and his body shows its arousal. ‘Are you sure?’ he murmurs again, as much to himself as to Dongju.

His boyfriend looks up at him through long dark lashes and then takes Hwanwoong’s wrist to guide his hand where he wants it. ‘I want you,’ he whispers. ‘Want to feel you. I want to feel you inside me.’

The words trigger sparks all across Hwanwoong’s skin. Worry is replaced with need and he reminds himself that in this moment, he can bring euphoria to Dongju far beyond what they’ve ever felt on the stage. That’s a power that he cannot wait to indulge.

After today, after this week, he feels as if he’s soared all the way to the sun, but has basked in the warmth without any threat of burning.

~

Waking up like this is different to every time that Dongju has woken up with Hwanwoong before. For a moment, because they are curled so closely together, he thinks that they are in their bed back home. Then he remembers where they are, and the memories of last night flood back as one and he recognises the springs of the hotel bed and the crisp sheets pulled up over his naked body and his heart does a backflip. Or less of a backflip, more of a front handspring step out round-off back handspring full twisting layout. At least that’s how it feels in his chest.

Hwanwoong is asleep, and for once it is him who holds Dongju tight in his arms rather than the other way around. Dongju thinks that he likes being held like this. Their legs tangle together under the sheets, and when Dongju rests his head against Hwanwoong’s bare chest he can feel the steady thud of his heart just below his ear.

Heaven.

It feels like heaven.

As he turns onto his side and shifts his leg, he feels a slight sore stretch and closes his eyes. Neither of them knew what they were doing, last night. Not at first. Dongju is looking forward to next time, when they know better. But last night is something that he’ll store in his memory forever. Their first time together. He’s glad that it was the first time for both of them, even though he knows that he shouldn’t care about that kind of thing.

He looks up into Hwanwoong’s sleeping face, peaceful and lost in a distant world of dreams. Dongju brushes the hair from forehead and contorts his arms until he can caress Hwanwoong’s face with gentle fingers just where they lie. They have a show today, but they are not due at the venue until the very late morning. Dongju can’t reach his phone without disturbing Hwanwoong to check the time, so he sighs and settles into his embrace instead.

He thinks about when Hwanwoong cooked him breakfast, and wonders whether he should order room service for them. That seems like the next best thing. He’s not sure where their managers would stand, though, on them ordering food up to their room, since a member of the hotel staff finding them in bed together would make the headlines, even after everything else. So he sighs and taps at Hwanwoong’s chest when his stomach starts to rumble.

After a while, one eye crooks open. ‘Are you waking me up?’ says Hwanwoong in a groggy voice.

Dongju is used to him being grumpy in the mornings. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Order room service,’ groans Hwanwoong. He rolls onto his back. Then, though, the memory of the previous night seems to dawn in his mind too and he turns back to look at him. ‘How are you feeling?’ he whispers, and even with the croakiness of early morning his voice has turned tender.

‘Never better,’ Dongju says as he touches a tiny kiss to his lips.

‘I taste of morning,’ Hwanwoong moans and pulls his lips away.

‘I don’t care.’

‘Gross,’ huffs Hwanwoong, but he’s smiling.

‘Do you feel different?’ whispers Dongju. ‘Because I do.’

It’s true. There’s no metaphysical change, but there’s a warmth in his heart that wasn’t there before, like a crackling fire spreading red and yellow sparks around his body through the veins. Having shared one most intimate moment with Hwanwoong makes him feel like their souls have been linked together more intrinsically than ever. Maybe it’s stupid and indulgently romantic but Dongju likes _romantic_ , and he thinks that he and Hwanwoong are connected. This path that they’ve travelled together could only have been fated.

‘I feel happy,’ answers Hwanwoong.

Dongju understands, because he does too.

He does not know how he imagined happiness before being with Hwanwoong. He supposes that he equated it with success: win their first music show, win their first major award, get their first number one album. Those things meant happiness, they were his ambition. Now, he realises that true happiness is quite different. No amount of success could make his heart buzz the way that it does when Hwanwoong kisses him. No amount of security in his work could make him feel the same as the promise that they have a life together laid out in front of them. Already, Dongju cannot imagine the rest of his life without Hwanwoong beside him.

Happily ever after.

‘Me too.’

‘I’ll do anything I can to make you happy, always,’ says Hwanwoong.

‘Do you think we’ll get into trouble if the managers find out we swapped rooms?’

Hwanwoong exhales and pulls Dongju into his chest. ‘I think they’ve given up on reprimanding us, Dongju. But don’t worry, I’ll tell them I was the bad influence.’

For a while, they enjoy silence. Not total silence, because the city is waking up outside the window and even several storeys up, they can hear the chaos of morning traffic and commute hour coming into life. Somewhere down the corridor, a door slams. Thin hotel room walls mean that sound travels at lightning pace and considerable volume. During the night, Dongju could hear every time that the elevator dinged. It did not bother him, though.

‘Can you believe that tonight is our last show in Japan?’ whispers Dongju after a minute. ‘I feel like we barely just got here.’

‘I know,’ sighs Hwanwoong, ‘there’s a lot more that I want to do, but we don’t have time.’

‘I’m sure we’ll be back soon, and before then we’ll have the world tour. Think how many moons we’re going to meet.’

A loving smile that Hwanwoong reserves only for him and the fans drifts onto his face. ‘I can’t wait. We’re going to make so many people happy. When someone is at a concert that is the most singular moment of joy that the world can conjure up. I remember when I saved up for months and months to see my first concert, because my parents couldn’t afford to buy a ticket for me. It felt like the best day of my life.’

Dongju hums and drums his fingertips on Hwanwoong’s chest. ‘ _The_ most singular moment of joy? Even more than sleeping with me?’ he adds with a smirk.

‘Apart from that,’ laughs Hwanwoong. ‘Which reminds me, we need to do that again.’

‘Like tonight?’

‘I have nothing left to trade with Keonhee,’ Hwanwoong sighs. ‘But when we get back to Seoul… and then we have a world tour…’

Dongju shuffles his position so that he can sprawl out across him, and tugs Hwanwoong’s arms to wrap around his back. ‘Have you thought about what you’re going to say for your final mention today?’

Musing over the question, Hwanwoong draws circles on Dongju’s skin. ‘I’m going to thank the fans for being here to support us, and for standing by us even when a lot of people were not being so kind about us. I’m going to thank them for making me feel safe even when it felt like the whole world was baying for our blood. And I’m probably going to thank you.’

‘For what?’ grins Dongju. His cheeks are pink.

‘For being so brave. And showing me how to be brave too.’

‘I’ve never taught you anything,’ he rolls his eyes. ‘I’ve always been the one copying you, Woong. When I first joined the company I even tried to imitate the way you walk because I thought you were so cool.’

‘I’m sure I wasn’t cool back then,’ says Hwanwoong with a sound of disbelief. ‘From what I remember, I was kind of awkward.’

‘Oh come _on_ ,’ Dongju slaps his chest. ‘You were super cool. All the girls wanted you and all the guys wanted to be you! Well, most of them. I wanted you. More than _any_ of the girls, by the way.’

Hwanwoong grins. ‘Really? Prove it.’

Willing to rise to _that_ challenge, Dongju props himself up on one elbow and catches Hwanwoong’s lips in a rough kiss before he can even gasp in surprise. His hand slides down his chest and below the sheet as he licks at the seam of Hwanwoong’s lips and smiles into the kiss when he parts them for him. Clearly caught off guard, Hwanwoong gasps and arches his back from the bed when Dongju breaks away to kiss down his throat instead.

If Hwanwoong thinks that Dongju is so brave, then Dongju will _show_ him brave.

They both jump nearly fresh from their skins when there is a hammering on the door, and Dongju pulls his hand back from under the sheet in a panic.

‘Open up!’ shouts Keonhee. ‘I left my phone charger in there!’

Hwanwoong breathes heavily as he flops his head back onto the pillow, and Dongju snickers into his chest, tickling the skin. Only when Keonhee hits the door so hard that the picture on the wall rattles, does Dongju drag himself out of bed and pull on Hwanwoong’s abandoned jeans because they are the first thing he can see, before hobbling to the door.

~

The arena is a sea of lights. This is the biggest venue that the group have ever performed in, and the sound fills the enclosed space like fluttering wings and endless song. The stage stretches in amongst the crowd, who have been on their feet for all of the show, and blue and purple and teal strobes spin around the venue. To unfocused eyes, the arena could be a galaxy of colour, with each fan-light the specks of stars. Infinite like the universe, the back row is far enough away that Hwanwoong can hardly make out the individual figures anymore.

Of all of their shows here, this has felt the most slick. He has not missed a beat. At the front of the stage there are industrial sized fans pumping out cold air, alongside the teleprompter and the setlist, but still sweat drips down his forehead and his silken clothes stick to his skin. His heart pounds against his chest and his throat is raw no matter how many times he drinks, but it all feels perfect. Adrenaline fizzles under his skin like the wick of a flame burning down to the candle.

There are thousands of fans here, and every one of them has chosen to support them. Through thick and thin. It makes Hwanwoong’s heart swell. He wants to do his best for them, and repay their loyalty in any way that he can. Will anything ever be enough? Soon, he will be on a plane travelling far from here, and he does not know when he will see them again. He must give them everything, show them the very last pieces of him that he has not yet brought out, because it might be a long time before he is able to come back.

When the time arrives for the final mention, he pulls on an oversized black hoodie printed with the tour name and lines up with the other members, but he still has not decided entirely what he wants to say.

He reads his part in Japanese from the teleprompter, but when it comes to bringing out the last unrevealed secrets of his heart, he hesitates. Camera lights flicker all across his vision. Keonhee puts an arm around his shoulder and he feels grounded, but still words do not come. Tears do, so he pushes them away furiously with his sweater paws. His make-up will smudge, but his thoughts are not on his appearance right now.

In the front row, two girls are holding glowing LED signs with his name on.

‘Thank you,’ he says, ‘for welcoming us again. For making us feel like we are at home. Most of you know that I’ve had a really hard year. The group has had a hard year. But winter ended and we made it here, and I know that it’s going to be a beautiful summer and a beautiful year.’

He takes out his ear monitors as Geonhak ruffles his hair and the rest of the group rile the crowd with cooing and laughter. Hwanwoong feels Dongju’s arms wrap around him from behind, but he doesn’t react even when the arena screams. He still has things to say.

‘Everything that we do, we do for you. Everything that I do, I do for you. I hope that I can see you again very soon.’

As he says it, he notices another LED sign. _Hwanwoong_ ♡ _Xion_. It could just be their names but it means something else and his voice catches in his throat and he forgets what he was going to say next. Dongju squeezes his waist and Seoho says something that makes the crowd laugh. Hwanwoong lifts his microphone again and then lowers it, and then lifts it again.

‘I know that I’ll see you all again soon,’ he says, voice trailing off.

Dongju takes the microphone from his hand to speak and Hwanwoong shuffles his feet. The sound is deafening, and he has to put his monitors back in for a moment of clarity. Where they will go next, he does not know, but what he does know is that he wants to live in this moment forever. A moment in which Dongju can embrace him in front of thousands of people and there is nothing that the press can say about it. There is nothing that the critics online can hammer out posts about, and nothing that the industry can do to stop them.

He takes a spot between Seoho and Keonhee and feels their arms take Dongju’s place around his waist.

When he thinks back to their first win, he cannot recall what his hopes were for the future. Hope became wrapped up in despair before he could get a grasp on it. Now, he thinks about it, and for once the answer is not awards, nor number one songs, but just _this_. This is his dream for the future. Living like this, on this stage in front of these people, with his family and his love by his side, is all that he wants from this job. Anything else is merely a bonus.

The others have to practically drag him off the stage as the lights go down.

His eyes are fixated on the glow of lightsticks, of LED signs, and flashing phone cameras because every single person in that crowd wants to live this moment forever just as much as he does.

He trips on the stairs backstage, but Geonhak catches him by the back of his hoodie before he can hit the floor.

‘Careful, Woong-ah!’

He is in a daze, though. Everything around him seems muted in comparison to the strobes and the sound of the stage. Even putting his feet one in front of the other feels sluggish and out of time with some silent beat. In the end, Geonhak puts an arm around his back to guide him down the corridor and through to their dressing room. Someone has tidied it up during their final mention, because when he left it there was a mess of discarded stage clothes, spilled make-up, empty snack packets and games consoles left abandoned on the dressers.

Now everything is in order, and he sends a prayer of thanks to the team as he collapses down into a seat.

His ears are ringing.

‘You looked so good up there tonight,’ says Dongju, making a beeline for him across the dressing room. When he is within reach, Hwanwoong hooks a finger into his belt loop to pull him closer and rests his head back against the head of the chair to look up at him.

‘Not as good as you.’

‘No romance in the dressing room, please!’ says Seoho while he bustles past.

As if to make a point, Dongju sits down pointedly on Hwanwoong’s lap. Unoffended by this choice of demonstration, Hwanwoong in turn wraps his arms around his waist and smiles up at Seoho. ‘It was a good stage, right, hyung?’

‘The best,’ Seoho sighs, ‘the best we’ve ever done I think.’

The managers agree. The team agree. They sit down for their post-concert debrief, which they do after every event to discuss what they did right, and what they need to change for the future, and what transitions backstage were smooth and which needed more work. The whole team cram into the dressing room, most of them standing, but tonight there is little of importance to discuss. The set worked out perfectly, and it’s rare that they come off the stage so satisfied.

‘I think that we all want to congratulate the group of their performances in Japan,’ says Manager Byun, leading the rest of the team in a round of applause that makes Hwanwoong’s ears turn red.

‘We want to thank all of you, too,’ Hwanwoong says quickly. ‘We couldn’t have put on these stages without every single member of the team and we are so grateful always for your hard work. We are the ones who get to stand on the stage but really it is everyone here who should be getting the applause at the end of the night.’

Dongju has moved off his lap and is squashed into the seat beside him. No one stares at them.

‘We have the next video fansign once we arrive back in Seoul tomorrow,’ Manager Kim reminds them, ‘so everyone needs to get some sleep before the flight. We’ll keep six members of the team in the room once we’re back at the company.’

Hwanwoong does not mind the video fansigns, but he finds them more tiring than meeting people in person. It’s harder to read tone and mood over the phone, especially when speaking through a translator, and his anxiety always spikes. He worries that he’ll say the wrong thing, or that something will slip out, especially when half of the questions that he received last time came back to him and Dongju one way or another. Having the staff there feels relieving, rather than stifling.

‘I’m proud of you all,’ Manager Byun adds.

As a harsh self-critic, it’s rare that Hwanwoong ever thinks those words about himself, but as he thinks back to the stage and their time spent here in Japan, he cannot help but admit that he is proud of them too. Proud of himself. Of _himself_. There was a time when he thought he’d never feel that way again.

Completing this first small ascent of the mountain ahead of them feels like closing the chapter of his life that revolved around fear. Now he is only excited to rise higher and higher. Up to the sky until he can fly.

~

Dongju sips on the very edges of his coffee because the centre is red hot and the tip of his tongue is already burned. The coffee shop is small and pretty and all of the group trust the owner enough to come to drink here regularly. The barista has made a little heart in his latte foam and he smiles down at it with a serene expression that he’s sure looks ridiculous but he struggles to drag the grin from his face these days. He picks up the little silver spoon and traces his thumb over the rose engraving on the rounded end.

When the bell above the door dings, he looks up and beams even brighter. Dongmyeong slides into the café and pulls off his cap and mask. Before the door swings shut, bright light streams in an arc across the table and Dongju knows that summer is almost here.

‘You got here early!’ says Dongmyeong. ‘Since when do you ever arrive anywhere early?’

Dongju shrugs and sniffs. ‘I’m changing a lot of habits recently.’ The true answer is that he could not wait around when they arrived home from the fansign, because he has so much that he wants to tell his brother. So much that he could not express without being face-to-face. ‘I already got your drink,’ he adds, to bring further evidence to his point.

‘You paid for this?’ Dongmyeong raises his eyebrows in mock shock.

‘Yes! Now sit down.’

Dongmyeong is dressed for the oncoming summer, in a white tee. Every other day, Dongju tries to convince him to get tattoos for his arms. ‘What are you in such a hurry to tell me?’ he laughs. ‘How was Japan?’

‘It was great,’ says Dongju but he waves his hand like the location itself is not important. ‘You saw all my pictures from Disneyland.’

‘I did. It looked like you were in heaven.’

‘I was,’ he sighs. The park was one thing, but being there with Hwanwoong was a whole other. ‘But so much happened, Myeongie. You wouldn’t even believe it all. Hwanwoong and I - ’

Dongmyeong hushes him and looks around conspiratorially, even though there is no one close to them. ‘Should we be talking about this here?’ he whispers in a dramatic tone.

Dongju follows his gaze around the almost empty café and rolls his eyes. ‘No one’s going to hear us. Where else was I going to talk to you? One of our dorms? Where all the other members can hear and tease me forever?’ he makes a dismissive sound. ‘Trust me, here is safer.’

Still, Dongmyeong drags his chair around until they are sitting mere inches apart so that they can whisper close to one another. ‘Okay. Go on.’

‘After the first concerts, before we went to _Disney_ , Hwanwoong and I went out to a bar.’

‘The managers allowed that?’ Dongmyeong’s mouth is a picture of surprise.

‘Hwanwoong convinced them. They stayed a few feet away from us, mind. But it was amazing, Dongmyeong.’

‘You didn’t tell me about this before!’

‘I didn’t know how to tell you without talking to you,’ says Dongju quickly, ‘because we – because I – I said it. You know, the big word. I told him I – that I love him.’

Dongmyeong grabs him by the shoulder. ‘Are you serious?’

‘It just came out. I didn’t even think about it. It was like my heart just opened up and I couldn’t keep anything inside anymore. I was looking at him and all I could think was that he’s… he’s everything. I wanted him for so long and now that I have him it’s like I can’t even believe everything that’s happening. Being with him is so much better than I even imagined and trust me I imagined every little detail of it.’

‘Go on,’ grins Dongmyeong, clearly enjoying sound of his brother gushing. If he is saving every word for ammunition in future squabbles, then Dongju cannot even find it in his heart to worry about it.

‘He’s so funny and sometimes he’s really grumpy and annoying in the mornings. And I love it. When I’m nervous he makes me feel like the floor is steady and the air gets easier to breathe. There are all these little corners of his head that he doesn’t let anyone else see and when we talk I know I’m the only person that he shares everything with. Like I’m his person and he’s mine. And he told me he loves me too. And why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Because it’s sweet,’ scoffs Dongmyeong, shaking his head at his accusatory tone. ‘I never thought that I’d see you like this. I always worried that Hwanwoong would be the one that got away, that you would never get over. I didn’t think I could bear to watch it eat you up for years. And instead we’re here.’

The words remind Dongju of his own disbelief, the disbelief that he’s lived in since that first kiss. Disbelief that he got to live out a strange version of his fantasy, and then disbelief that Hwanwoong chose him. Chose _him_. Only now, after Japan, has he begun to settle into belief. Because Hwanwoong makes him feel like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he chose him. Like he’s beautiful and brilliant. That’s the light that Hwanwoong beams out like a beacon.

‘After we went to Disney we…’ Dongju drops his voice even lower, and this time he glances around furtively too to check that no one is within earshot. ‘You know. _We_.’

‘You what?’

Dongju groans. The last thing that he wants in the world is to have to spell this out for him. ‘ _You know_.’

As the penny drops, Dongmyeong’s mouth falls open in surprise. ‘Oh. _You_ …’

‘Yeah.’

‘Dongju – you – are you okay? Did he take care of you?’ Suddenly, there is a blaze of fiery red protectiveness in Dongmyeong’s eyes and Dongju gulps, wondering if it was the right thing to tell him.

‘Of course he did!’

‘Because I don’t care who he is, Dongju. If he doesn’t treat you right, if he doesn’t care for you with _respect_ , then - ’

‘It’s Hwanwoong, Myeong!’ he says in disbelief. ‘ _Hwanwoong_.’

‘Like I said, I don’t care who he is. You’re my little brother!’

‘I’m not your - ’ Dongju sighs. He gave up on fighting that battle long ago. ‘Of course he took care of me. He treated me like a king. It was romantic and beautiful and perfect and he made me feel safe and special and I wasn’t even nervous.’

Dongmyeong looks at him with wide eyes, like the brother that has returned from Tokyo is not the same one that he waved goodbye to. In a way, Dongju thinks that he would be right. He stands taller now, and it hasn’t escaped his own notice that he doesn’t put himself down anymore. ‘I’m really happy for you, Ju,’ whispers Dongmyeong, and then he vocalises it at last. ‘You’re like a different person to before. Like you’re spreading your wings.’

‘That’s how I feel.’

‘When that kiss happened, I was so scared, Dongju,’ says Dongmyeong. ‘I couldn’t say it to you, because I had to be strong for you, but I was so afraid that it would cost you everything. I didn’t know how the company would react and I was so scared that people would target you and I wouldn’t know how to protect you from them. I wouldn’t have thought then that we could end up here.’

‘Coming out is the best thing I ever did,’ says Dongju, ‘in that office, and on the front of the newspapers. It was scary as hell and sure, there are always going to be people who hate me, or hate us. But the world has more good people than bad people. This has shown me that. Up on that stage in Tokyo, I looked out at all of these people supporting us and in that moment the others didn’t matter. They don’t matter.’

‘Giwook wants to come out. Since he watched you do it. He talks about it every day. He says that he wants everybody to know now. And he wants more artists to see that you _can_ do it.’

‘That’s what I want,’ presses Dongju. ‘I want everyone who’s scared to be able to look at me, and then maybe one of them does it too, and then more people will see them and they’ll be less afraid and they’ll do it too. This is how normal is going to become… normal, in the industry. We can’t live and work this way forever, people feeling like they have to hide who they are. Back in that office I did it for Hwanwoong, but now I know that it’s bigger than that.’

‘My little bro,’ says Dongmyeong again, and this time Dongju doesn’t bother to try to argue. ‘I should’ve known you’d be changing the world before long. It’s all those _Disney_ movies you’ve watched. You’ve got the courage to be the hero in your own story.’

Dongju looks down shyly and sips the rest of his now-warm coffee. ‘Right,’ he laughs, cheeks bright red, ‘that’s how I managed to make the handsome prince fall in love with me.’

~

‘What are you looking at?’ whispers Hwanwoong.

Dongju is alone in the bedroom, both hands gripping the window ledge as he leans up against the glass and peers outside. Apart from the neighbours, there is not much to see out of their window, so Hwanwoong frowns. ‘Come and look,’ says Dongju, beckoning him over without turning around. ‘They hatched. While we were gone.’

 _Of course_.

Hwanwoong had already forgotten.

They’d first noticed them a few nights before their departure to Japan. Just outside the window, down on the roof of the porch below leading out into the small back courtyard, was a small bird’s nest, densely packed with twigs and soft fibres and moss. Unaware of the humans above, the two birds flew back and forth every day cultivating the delicate ring. Safe from the elements, as rain never drips past the overhand of their window, and placed on a flat, stable surface, Hwanwoong thought then that any babies would be very lucky birds.

Sure enough, a couple of days before they left, five small eggs appeared. They were pale in colour, somewhere between a blue and a green and speckled. So tiny, they could be no bigger than the end of Hwanwoong’s thumb. He’d asked for the forces of nature to protect them while he and Dongju were away in Japan, but amongst everything that happened there, he’d forgotten all about them.

He joins Dongju at the window, and a smile creeps onto his face as he watches the five babies hustling for space. Just as their shoulders bump together, one of the parent birds flies to the nest and begins to feed them. Even through the glass, the bright chirping rings out. Even though summer is all but upon them, Hwanwoong knows that they will not be able to open the window until all of them have flown from the nest. They cannot be disturbed.

He prepares himself for an awkward conversation with Keonhee, who prefers to sleep with the window thrown wide open.

‘They’re so cute,’ he whispers. It’s kind of true. They’re still partly featherless and screeching for food but nonetheless, he has a soft spot for baby animals, and Dongju is beaming with happiness.

‘Some birds come back to nest in the same place every year. Imagine if they become the Oneus birdies,’ grins Dongju.

‘I hope they do. And I hope that we’re home when they leave the nest. Dammit, I bet we’ll be at the dance studio. Or working some other way. At least it will be before the world tour. I want to watch them fly away.’

As he looks down, Hwanwoong notices that his hand is only an inch from Dongju’s on the window ledge, so he slides it across and interlinks their fingers. Dongju’s hand is warm and soft.

‘Let’s go and tell the others,’ says Dongju.

They find the rest of the group in the living room, except for Youngjo who has gone straight to his bedroom to sleep after the fansign. Hwanwoong does not blame him, because his own eyes are drooping, but still he does not feel ready for bed yet. Seoho is sprawled back on the couch playing on his _Switch_ and Keonhee and Geonhak have turned on the television, set to a low volume.

‘The baby birds outside our window hatched!’ beams Dongju, like this is the most important announcement of the week.

‘ _Cute_!’ grins Seoho, ‘I want to see them!’

Dongju flops down onto the spare seat and leans forward to see what is showing on the TV. ‘We missed the last episode of our drama while we were away.’

‘I recorded it,’ says Keonhee without looking over, with an air to his voice that suggests he’s frustrated that anyone would have expected less of him.

‘I’d forgotten all about it,’ says Hwanwoong honestly. ‘While we were in Tokyo it’s like the whole world became this one little bubble, just us and our fans. It feels strange just being back here, going back to doing normal things. I guess it’s always like that after touring but it still feels weird.’

‘I think I really caught the tour bug again,’ nods Seoho. ‘Before we go I’m always dreading it, thinking about injuries and travelling and surviving on no sleep all the time. But then the second we’re there it’s like heaven, and I just want to do it over and over forever.’

The members murmur in agreement.

‘Everyone did well this time around,’ says Youngjo from the doorway, and they all look up in surprise. He’s already dressed in pyjamas and his hair is messy from napping. ‘It didn’t feel like we’re rookies anymore.’

‘Of course,’ grins Keonhee, ‘we have three wins now.’

‘We should go out to eat,’ Geonhak suggests.

As he looks around at the group of them, Hwanwoong feels the overwhelming need to say something. What he needs to say, he isn’t sure. No words can truly express his gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ he splutters out, before he can get a full grip on his own intentions. They all turn to face him and he grimaces, already wishing that he could take the words back. Dongju’s hand is on his back and suddenly he feels hot with everyone’s attention on him.

‘Thank you for what?’ says Seoho with a smirk, as if he knows that they’re about to receive a rush of compliments.

‘Don’t make me say it out loud.’

‘ _Say it_!’ Keonhee orders.

‘Thank you for supporting us,’ he sighs, ‘and for never being mad at us.’

‘Us being…’ Seoho gestures between him and Dongju.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t have to thank us for that,’ whispers Youngjo. ‘You know that we’re always here for you.’

‘I know, I know,’ he says softly. ‘But a lot of people wouldn’t have been. A lot of people - ’ He stops. Why think about it? Why think about it now when everything is good? He shakes the thought away and instead looks back to his friends. ‘I just really wanted to say thank you. Properly.’

‘Alright, bring it in,’ laughs Seoho and he stands to pull Hwanwoong into a hug that’s more of a stranglehold. Hwanwoong does not protest, nor when Keonhee joins the hug. Embarrassingly, tears come to his eyes but he blinks them away. This expression of thanks alone will earn him enough teasing over the next few weeks. He does not need the added embarrassment of crying on their behalf. Dongju stands a little back, but Hwanwoong can feel his presence like the draw of a magnet. He never feels far away.

Of everyone’s touch, he always recognises Dongju’s. Even with his eyes closed. Somehow, he knows which hand rubs his arm gently, which fingers move the loose strand of hair from his forehead, which arms wrap around him like a blue jersey blanket that kept him warm all winter.

~

Dongju jogs up and down the stairs at the company building to keep his muscles warm during the second half of their lunch break. In the past, he would collapse after a couple of hours of practice and spend their breaks flat on his back on the floor, but now he feels a buzz of energy in his veins that requires constant attention. It’s all down to getting fitter. For the last three weeks, he has been running with Hwanwoong almost every morning. Hwanwoong loves to run. He says that it makes him feel free and Dongju loves the things that Hwanwoong loves.

Their morning trips have become the subject of much tabloid attention. Why people are so interested in the pictures, Dongju does not know. Nothing changes from day to day except the sweatpants they’re wearing, but apparently that warrants a two-page spread of photos every single day. Dongju has become so used to it that he barely even notices when people photograph or record them anymore.

He wonders whether they think that he and Hwanwoong will be having top secret conversations out in the street while they run, and that they are hoping for an exclusive. If that is what it is, then they are set up to be disappointed, because the only words that leave their lips are Dongju’s whines that he’s exhausted halfway around the route, and Hwanwoong’s reminders that he’ll thank him later when they are on the world tour and his stamina is indestructible.

A glance at his watch tells Dongju that it’s time to go back to the dance studio, so he jogs the rest of the way too. Before the world tour, they are releasing a small single album so there is new choreography to learn. He’s picked it up quickly, not least because he hung around at the studio while Hwanwoong was staying late to choreograph it in the first place. The studio has become their private place, where they can share little romantic moments at a safe distance from the other members, who are liable to take photographs otherwise.

The studio is wide and brightly lit, and he blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. Hwanwoong is already in one corner, running through his dance break. As he takes his place amongst the other members – Seoho protesting loudly that the lunch break was far too short – his eyes do not tear away from Hwanwoong.

How many times did he watch him practice like this, back when his crush was at its peak?

How many times did he turn away when Hwanwoong would look up in his direction, terrified to be caught staring at him?

The Dongju of then is a stranger to him now. The Dongju of _now_ would’ve marched straight up to Hwanwoong and asked him on a date, right there and then. But without the Dongju of then, he supposes that things never would have worked out like this. So he does not resent him.

The rest of the dance practice rushes by. With the promotion for the single album looming, they seem to be running out of time already. It always feels that way, but it is still unsettling. The managers have become more snappy. Dongju has started having bad dreams about something going terribly wrong during their comeback stage, but whenever he wakes up gasping in the night he reminds himself that nothing could possibly be more outrageous than what they did the _last_ time they were promoting.

‘I can think of something,’ Hwanwoong said one night when Dongju voiced this aloud to him.

‘What?’

‘If I were to kiss Geonhak when we get our fourth win,’ Hwanwoong had laughed and Dongju had descended into a huff, unreasonably aggrieved that he would even joke about such a thing.

During the drive home from the studio, Dongju curls up in the backseat of the van and rests against Hwanwoong’s shoulder. It’s difficult with his belt across his body, but that does not stop him. Any excuse to be close to him.

‘What do you want to do tonight?’ asks Hwanwoong as they jump the steps up to the dorm door. They trail behind the others, always content to linger around for extra seconds of conversation.

‘Movie night?’ suggests Dongju. Movie night is an excuse to snuggle for hours _and_ Hwanwoong always lets him choose the movie. Seoho says that Dongju has his boyfriend wrapped around his little finger and that makes Dongju very smug. It also makes the other members laugh, a lot, but Hwanwoong ignores them every time and only grumbles about it later when the two of them are alone.

‘I’m up for that,’ grins Hwanwoong, ‘let’s order food. What do you want?’

‘What do _you_ want?’ Dongju asks, taking pity on him this time.

Over these last couple of weeks, Hwanwoong has changed in appearance. His hair has been dyed back to its natural colour after his roots became unmanageable, and he never wears make-up anymore unless they’re doing some kind of promotion. Instead of missing meals due to his time spent at the studio, he’s fallen into Dongju’s more organised routine and it has put weight onto his face. Most of all, though, he holds himself differently. It’s impossible _not_ to see it.

He walks into every room like he owns not only the building but everything inside it. His body language is open, arms thrown wide at every opportunity, because there is nothing to hide left in him. Hwanwoong was always confident, but in retrospect Dongju feels now that for a long time he was playing a character. Now the person that he takes out to work every day is unabashedly himself.

In the bedroom, Dongju changes immediately into his comfy clothes. He throws one of his hoodies at Hwanwoong for him to wear too, but Hwanwoong has crossed to the window, and he puts up an arm to catch it without turning around.

‘Ju - ’ he starts in a whisper. ‘Dongju they’re gone!’

Dongju runs over to his side and follows the familiar eye-line to the bird nest. ‘ _Almost_ all gone!’ he says breathlessly, because there is one baby bird left on the edge of the nest. They have grown into small but strong versions of their parents. Dongju is proud of them.

He grabs Hwanwoong’s hand and holds it tight. He feels like _they_ are the parents. There is a hollow part of his chest that is sad to have missed the other babies flying the nest, but he knows that they do not need their supervision anymore. As he squeezes Hwanwoong’s fingers, the last bird teeters on the twigs, and then in a flash it is gone. It drops several feet with its untrained wings, but then lifts up with a fluttering so rapid that Dongju’s eyes can’t perceive it.

‘Come on,’ Hwanwoong pulls him by the hand, ‘let’s see if we can see any of them.’

They run back to the dorm door, Dongju vaulting over the couch and ignoring the questions of the other members.

He’s wearing his comfy clothes and slippers, and Hwanwoong is halfway into his hoodie, but they run down the steps out into the street without hesitation. Still joined at the hand, they move as one into the middle of the road with their eyes cast to the sky. There is no traffic coming in either direction, like this moment was saved just for them and everything else in the world must be put on hold.

‘Is that them?’ Hwanwoong points to the sky. There is a flock of birds flying overhead, and they are definitely far too big to be their family but Dongju laughs and leans back against his chest nonetheless.

‘I don’t know, Woong,’ he grins.

They sway in the street. Hwanwoong’s hand holds Dongju’s against his tummy as he wraps his other arm around his chest to hold him in place. Both of them stare up at the sky.

The summer evening is warm and the sun has not set yet. Everything is cast in orange and pink glow. Only one fluffy cloud breaks the infinity of the sky, and as another family of distant black birds fly across it they are silhouetted like a painting that Dongju now longs to own. They soar with ease, higher and higher until they are tiny dots against the sky.

‘Where do you think they’re going?’ says Hwanwoong.

‘Maybe they don’t even know yet,’ Dongju shrugs. ‘Do we know?’

‘Where they’re flying?’

‘Where we’re flying.’

Hwanwoong pauses. They wait in the middle of the street, in each other’s arms like nobody else is watching and Dongju does not care if they are. With a soft kiss to his temple that promises love, Hwanwoong answers. ‘Higher.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please tell me what you thought <3
> 
> You can also say hi on [twt](https://twitter.com/hvanwoong)!


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